


but we never believed

by Scribe_of_Ruse



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:53:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribe_of_Ruse/pseuds/Scribe_of_Ruse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you go too far, there's a song you'll hear...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is backstory for Hetalia Tweet's Circle Four, set during the Second World War.
> 
> Thanks to nekropunx88 and rubychords on tumblr for all the help coming up with this thing!

** Chapter One **

****

**_September 10 th, 1939 _ **

**_The Offices of Sir Arthur Kirkland_ **

“A full _week_? A _full week?_ Time was, I said we went to war –”

“Yes, well, I wasn’t my own nation before, just another one of your colonies,” Matthew spat, leveling an icy purple glare at the elder nation. “Besides, it’s not like I had a say in this. My boss wanted to – symbolically declare ourselves different. It’s important to the people, you know that better than anyone.”

“That’s not the point, boy! You should have been with me from the beginning!” Arthur yelled, pounding on the wall with one fist.  
“Maybe if I had been, we wouldn’t be _having_ this problem,” Matthew sighed irritably, rubbing at his temple. “We would’ve dealt with Hitler as the clear threat he was going to become.”

“We _do not meddle in the affairs of humans_. It was up to them to deal with Hitler!”

“And, surprise, they didn’t! Sometimes we have to get things done ourselves.”

“What are you suggesting, boy – that we – assassinate another Nation’s leader?”

Matthew thought it over for a few seconds, and then shrugged slightly. “Seems like a good option to me, but then again, anything’s better than engaging in a full scale, world-wide war again.”

“We do not assassinate the humans. They’re to live their own lives, with no interference on our part”

“Really? What do we call it then, when one of us has to kill one of them on the battlefield? When we let the wars happen, and hundreds of thousands get slaughtered?”  
“It’s the cycle of life. Get used to it, lad, it’s normal.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it shouldn’t be. Maybe I’m tired of the war drums lulling me to sleep every night.”

“ _Maybe_ won’t get you anywhere. It _is not_ our place to interfere. Besides, there’s always the chance this will all blow over.”

“I don’t think there is. We’ve got Germany invading Poland, the Italies doing _god knows_ what down in Egypt, you and France declaring war, _Japan_ conquering things right and left – no, I don’t think there’s any backing down. This is going to be the Great War all over again.”

“You don’t know that.”  
“I’m not the only one who hears the drums, sir. I’m not the only one who dreams of the blood that’s going to be spilled. Just you watch – this is going to be the worst one yet.”

“That’s what they always say. It isn’t always true, lad. Go, get some sleep – things will look better in the morning, I promise.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_May 19 th, 1940_

“Look, Mattie, you know I want to help out, but other than this Lend-Lease bullshit, my hands are tied, y’know? My people want to remain neutral,” Alfred sighed as he stacked boxes in an otherwise empty warehouse. “If I had it my way, we’d’ve jumped in when you guys did. I hate just… sitting on my hands, waiting for something to happen. You know I want to help but I just – I can’t.”

“I know that, Al, I do, but – now that Germany’s conquered Poland, he’s turned back west. He’s not gonna stop until he’s got all of Europe conquered, and then he’s gonna come after us,” Matthew said nervously, turning his uniform cap over in his hands. “You know I’m right.”  
“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that. I already got England and China on my case about more guns and tanks. I know it’s eating you alive, seein’ the damn Krauts go after the old lady like that, but officially, I can’t do a thing but send supplies.”

“It’s just… Poland fell so _fast_ , we don’t even know if he’s still alive, and Denmark just – surrendered. Norway’s still fighting, but there’s no guarantee he’ll make it, either. And now that Germany’s focusing on France… I’m absolutely terrified. We’ve never see warfare like this, Al. Not even last time. He’s gonna rip his way through Europe, and then he’s gonna come for us. I just know it.”

“I know it, too, but – my people don’t wanna get involved, and you know what England always says –”

“We don’t meddle in the affairs of humans,” the two of them chimed together, both rolling their eyes.

“I know it’s bullshit, me chickening out like this. If I could get away with it, I’d join some of my boys and head over to your place, get me some of that RCAF flight training and head on over, you know I would.”  
“Yeah, I know. Your people want to be big damn heroes, come in at the last minute and save the day for Europe,” Matt sighed, giving his brother a wry grin.

“Shut up! I can still kick your ass any time I want,” Al said, giving Matt a light punch in the arm.

“ _Sure_ you can, Al. Just like you did when we were kids, and I dunked you under the pond.”

“All right, that’s it, you’re goin’ down.”

Matthew screeched loudly as Al started tickling his sides. “No, no, uncle! I give, I give, you win!”

“Of course you do. You know why?”  
“’Cause you’re a big damn hero, triumphing over the powers of evil Canadians?”  
“Damn straight I am.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**_June 22 nd, 1940_ **

**_Somewhere in Paris_ **

The room they were keeping her in wasn’t so bad, Françoise mused to herself. She’d definitely been held in worse prisons than some cushy office, with chains wrapped around her wrists and ankles.

It was, however, agonizingly boring. She wasn’t sure how long she had been here, or how much longer they would leave her.

An indeterminate amount of time passed, and then the door opened, revealing a sickly-looking albino man.

“Aaaah, well, if it isn’t the backstabbing traitor Prussia, come to gloat over his conquest. Tell me, has your precious little brother managed to conquer the rest of Europe yet, or does Britain yet still stand in his path?”

Prussia twitched at that, scoffing loudly. “It is none of your business what we’ve conquered or haven’t. Look, Franzy –”

“I think that you had best avoid calling me that,” Françoise said warningly, directing a stare as cold as the north wind at him.

“I didn’t want it to happen this way. Just surrender, and – and we – _he’ll_ let you live,” Prussia said frantically, looking nervously towards the door. “He’s going to kill you, otherwise, and despite all of the bad blood between us, I just – I can’t let him do that. I’d like to think you’re still my friend.”

“And I’m sure, in the days since my capture, the sky has turned green and pigs can fly. Let me guess – you’ve found a puppet to bend to your will, and make France yours?”

“Yes. Marshal Philippe Pétain has agreed – he’s agreed to take over as Governor to what he’s calling Vichy France.”

“And you think I’m just going to roll over and submit to this, don’t you?”  
Prussia shook his head minutely, his hands shuddering. “Not for a second. That wouldn’t be the France I know. Ludwig, though – he’s got the madness, and he’s got it _bad_. He’ll see every other Nation dead before he realizes what he’s doing is wrong.”

“What’s he doing to you, that’s got you so scared of him?” Françoise asked, looking at him suspiciously. The war madness was bad enough, of course; the empire madness was worse yet. This was different, though. Something was wrong.

Prussia shook his head again, shivering slightly even though the room was almost stiflingly hot. “Trust me, you don’t – you don’t want to know. If you’re lucky, he won’t do it to you.”

“It can’t be that bad – we’ve seen war before, Gilbert –”

“No, trust me. This is worse than anything that’s been done in a long, long time. I can’t silence the screams, Francine. I can’t make them stop. I can’t make _him_ stop. He’s gone mad. I – I wanted him to be powerful, but _not like this._ ”

“Gilbert, _what is he doing that’s so bad_?”

The door opened again, revealing a very large blonde man. “Brother, please leave. I don’t think you’ll want to be here, for this.”

Prussia straightened immediately, blocking Françoise with his own body. “Please, just let me deal with her. I know all her little tricks, I can handle this –”

“No, you cannot. She has already told you she will not surrender to you.”

“I just need to work her down some more! Please, Ludwig, I can do this.”

“You have already tried and failed. Now leave, before I make you regret it.”

“You’re the one that’s going to regret this, Ludwig, I promise you that,” Prussia said, clenching his jaw tightly. “Before this is all over – you’re going to regret everything.”

The door slammed shut behind Prussia as he left, making the paintings on the wall shake with the sudden force. Germany moved in closer, his face impossible to read.

The madness was definitely there, though, lurking behind his eyes.

“So, you will not surrender to us, then?”

“Oh, little Germany. Little _Allemange_. Just look at how mighty you’ve grown, in so short a time,” Françoise said, mockingly fond. “Tell me, do the people shout your name with pride, yet? When you look into your leader’s eyes, do you feel a sudden surge of power?”

“That does not answer my question, France. Do you surrender unconditionally?” He asked, untying her from the chair.

“Do you hear the drums, calling you to kill all who stand in your path? Do you feel the madness setting in?” She continued, as though she had not been interrupted. “Are you prepared to do what your blood is calling for?”

“The will of the _Fuhrer_ is the will of all Germans. Soon, it will be the will of all peoples. Do you surrender?”

“I will only surrender to you once my soul has left this plane, and my body has been reclaimed by the earth. Never before that.”

“That is unfortunate. Do you have any last words?”  
Françoise grinned an awful, mad looking grin. “Remember the feeling you have right now, because that will be gone soon. The same people who shout your praises now are the same people who will cheer for your downfall, little _Allemange._ ”

“So be it. _Republique du France_ , I declare you dissolved,” Germany declared, placing his thumb in the middle of her forehead.

Lines of ink swirled on pale flesh, marking cities and places past and present. An unholy light and wind arose, swirling around Françoise in an ever-shifting whorl of colors that flashed by too quickly to be named. Suddenly there was a great wrenching, as though the earth was trying to reclaim her and tear her in two, all at the same time. She involuntarily screamed, the sound becoming doubled the longer it went on. After what seemed an eternity, the colors and lines faded. Françoise collapsed against the ground, her stomach heaving and body shaking with a pain she had never felt before. Her vision narrowed, clouded by what looked to be masses of pale blonde hair. Outside the door, she could hear someone throwing up.

“You there, soldier,” she distantly heard Germany saying, “Get rid of the black-haired one. We have no use for traitorous scum like her. She’ll be dead soon enough.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**_February 9, 1941_ **

**_The Offices of Sir Arthur Kirkland, London, England_ **

Arthur scowled ominously as he read through Matthew’s request, occasionally glancing up at his former colony. “No, absolutely not. You’re needed out in Germany, fighting the damn Krauts, or here shooting them down! I can’t let you leave to – just run around France, willy-nilly, looking for that bitch you refer to as your mother! I will absolutely not allow it. You’re not going.”  
“Please, sir!” Matthew begged, “We haven’t heard from her in months! You’ve got to be just as worried as I am, at this point! Please. I can send a report back once a week, or something! I could gather intelligence for what’s really going on there, while I’m trying to find her, just – _please_ , sir, please let me try to find her. Please.”

“I’m not worried in the slightest about her, boy,” Arthur said frostily, shuffling papers around on his desk. “I have many more important things to worry about than the state of that whore. She probably just rolled over, spread her legs, and begged the damn Krauts to take her, and now they’re probably just keeping her under lock and key somewhere, fucking her whenever they feel like it. We’re focusing on Egypt right now, not France. We can’t spare the men.”

Matthew made a low growling noise in his throat at Arthur’s insinuations, but still persisted in petitioning. “I wouldn’t take anyone else, it’d just be me! I can still speak French like a native Parisian, Al even said I can, I’d be in and out faster than lightning – nobody would even notice me being gone! Please, Dad, just – let me try to find her. Otherwise I’m leaving on my own, and I won’t send anything back! This way you get something out of it, at least.”

Arthur leveled an icy green glare at his son over a set of documents. “I hate to tell you this, lad, but it’s been nearly eight months. If the Nazis aren’t keeping her locked up someplace, she’s dead. You’d be lucky to find the bits left of her.”

“Can’t I at least try? Please? Nobody would notice I was gone, I promise,” Matthew pleaded, pushing up his glasses from where they were slipping down his nose. “They wouldn’t even notice I was there if I went! It’s like you’re always saying – I’m practically invisible! Please, sir, just let me try to find her. If – if I can’t find her by June, I’ll come back, and I won’t ask to go again.”

“By June, you say? And you won’t ask to go again.”  
“No, sir. I promise I won’t.”

Arthur thought it over for a few seconds, and then gave a single nod. “I’ll allow it. You may take three months of supplies with you when you go. And – Matthew?”  
“Yes sir?”  
“If you get caught, I’ll make whatever those Nazis do to you look like a child’s game.”  
“Of course, sir. I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Matthew said as he left the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**_March 13, 1941_ **

**_Outside the Palace of Versailles_ **

****

The grounds outside Versailles were pitch black as Matthew hopped over the fence, the only light visible coming through a few windows on an upper floor. The Germans hadn’t put up barbed wire around the fencing, which was unusual in and of itself – normally that stuff was _everywhere_ they went.

_Maybe Maman wouldn’t let them put it up – it_ is _Versailles, after all. She’d probably complain they were ruining the look of it,_ he thought to himself as he crept across the grounds.

It had taken almost two weeks for him to properly sneak into France, and another to steal a uniform and cement himself as a courier for the Vichy government. After that, it was a matter of finding out where France was being kept – although, strangely, nobody referred to her as “France”. It was always “Vichy”.

It hadn’t surprised him in the least, when he finally found out they were keeping her at Versailles. However, the uniform he’d stolen apparently wasn’t a high enough clearance to be allowed to deliver things to her, so here he was, breaking in.

The march of boots in the distance made Matthew quickly dive for cover near a bush, flattening himself as close to the ground as possible. At least four Nazi soldiers were patrolling the grounds, talking to each other in rapid-fire German. Matthew waited nervously behind the bush, silently praying that they didn’t notice him while waiting for them to pass.

After a long moment had passed, the sounds of marching faded. Matthew shot up from the ground, making a break for the palace before another unit came by. The doors, of course, were locked, and it didn’t look like he would be able to pick it. The stones were rough enough at this entrance to be able to climb up them, Matthew noticed. He looked around for another patrol, making sure there weren’t any nearby before pulling his gloves off and starting to climb up the wall. The darkness _should_ cover him, he thought, but hopefully nobody would look up as they passed by.

A few agonizingly long minutes passed, and Matthew finally hooked himself up to one of the lit windows. It was unlocked, allowing Matthew to swing them inward and slip in, revealing an excessively ornate and well-lit hallway. Matthew quickly ducked down, shutting the window behind him. From his crouched view, his memories dimly told him he was very close to his mother’s old apartments within the palace – which made sense, they wouldn’t have left this area lit unless she was in it. He silently counted the doors, trying to remember which one belonged to her. Standing up slowly, he quietly tried the handles of the doors, all of them locked until he reached the end of the hall.

Taking a deep breath to steady his sudden batch of nervousness, he knocked lightly on the door, not wanting to be impolite.

“Come in!” An airy voice called in French. Matthew frowned slightly – that wasn’t the voice he remembered her having – but took another deep breath and entered quietly. The rooms were largely unchanged from when he had stayed there as a child, but for a few decorations.

The woman sitting at the vanity, however, had changed drastically.

Françoise Bonnefois normally had long, wavy golden blonde hair, and sky blue eyes. The woman sitting in front of Matthew had stick-straight platinum blonde hair, and eyes the color of ice. She was half-dressed in an exquisite pale blue Japanese kimono with white floral embroidery, tied loosely around the waist with a large red ribbon. Her underthings were practically exposed, and Matthew flushed slightly in embarrassment for her.

This was not his mother. This was a doll, masquerading as the nation of France.

He finally, _finally_ understood why everyone referred to her as “Vichy”.

“It’s awfully late for such a young man to be delivering something to me! What could possibly be so important that such a… _handsome_ young man needed to visit me? Does Philippe need me somewhere else? Did the rest of them send you to me, for a little… comfort?”

Matthew shook his head, feeling absolutely horrified as he took off the hat covering his hair. “No, they – they didn’t,” Matthew answered nervously in French, looking straight at her.

The woman cocked her head to the side, some of her hair falling into her face. “I don’t understand. The only reason that they send the young ones is to try me.”

Matthew gave her a tiny smile, deciding to lie for her sake. “I suppose it’s been a while since you last saw me, Maman. I’ve grown an awful lot, since then.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and delight, a smile lighting up her whole face. For a moment, she almost looked like his real mother. “Could it be? Has my little Mathieu returned to me at last?”

He nodded, returning her smile with a weak one of his own – one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yes, Maman. I’m finally back.”

“Oh, I’m so _glad!_ You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed you, my little darling! Look at you, look how big you’ve gotten!” she squealed excitedly, her hair flying everywhere as she suddenly hugged him, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss him on both cheeks. “Oh, I’ve missed you _so much_ , Mathieu! However did you convince Arthur to let you come here? I’m sure he wouldn’t just let you go, he never liked letting go of his toys. Such a selfish little thing, that man.”

“It was easy enough, Maman. I just told him I was going to do recon.”

“Well, I’m glad you managed it, then! I’ve missed you _so_ much, my darling. You cannot stay long, though – Ludwig is expected here at any minute, and if he finds you here – well, it wouldn’t be very pleasant for you, to say the least! I couldn’t possibly let him hurt someone so precious to me,” she said, looking almost sad that she had to let him go.

“It’s all right, I understand. I just – I wanted to make sure you were still alive. We hadn’t heard from you in such a long time, and we were all very worried,” Matthew said, giving her another smile. “I’m happy to leave, I just – needed to see you again. That’s all.”

The doll sighed unhappily, pouting slightly. “I don’t want you to have to go, my darling, but I couldn’t bear it if Ludwig hurt you. He’s not a very kind man, and he would take your presence to mean that I am reporting back to Arthur.”

Matthew shook his head slightly before putting the hat back on. “I understand, Maman. All I wanted to do was see you again, I swear. The only thing I’ll tell Fath - _England_ is that you’re alive, and – and doing well, I hope?”

“You’re still the sweetest thing, my dear one. I’m glad to see that Arthur didn’t drum that out of you. Now, please, go, before Ludwig comes!”

“Whatever you’d like, Maman. Please – stay safe? For me?” Matthew said, bending over and kissing her hand; a wave of horror and disgust rippled through his body as his lips touched her skin.

“Of course, my darling. Anything for you,” she said, smiling gently at him.

“Then I’ll be on my way,” he replied, straightening up and backing out of the room, closing the door behind him. As he walked away from Vichy’s apartments, it slowly dawned on him that it was taking all his willpower to not to collapse to his knees and be sick all over the floor. He quickly ran down the hall, desperately trying every door in order to find one that wasn’t locked. As soon as he found one that wasn’t locked, he ducked inside, looking around to make sure nobody was there, before finding the nearest vase and emptying the contents of his stomach into it.

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**_Later that same night_ **

**_Palace of Versailles_ **

****

“He’s treating me like I’m a goddamn _kid_ , like I don’t know what I’m doing here!” Prussia growled angrily in German as he stomped through the halls of the palace, his boots making a satisfying clicking noise as they hit the floor. “As if I wasn’t the one who raised him! I shouldn’t have spoiled him as much as I did, should’ve disciplined him more. Maybe he would’ve turned out better than this – this _monster_.”

All was quiet in the palace at this hour, with the exception of the screams of pleasure coming from Vichy’s apartments. Gilbert shuddered in horror as he passed her rooms, trying to pretend that he couldn’t hear what was going on in there.

It was one thing for his little brother to have essentially destroyed one of the few friends he had left in the world, but it was another thing entirely to have to listen to him fucking her doppelgänger.

“Stupid brat. Doesn’t understand what destroying a nation like France will mean for him later on. Doesn’t have _any_ idea of the consequences coming for him. If he thought _last_ time was bad, he’ll just have to wait until someone cuts him down to size again. It’ll make the aftermath of the last war look like a child’s game.”

He noticed one of the doors was left slightly ajar, which was unusual – he’d thought all of the doors on this floor were locked, other than Vichy’s rooms, but here this one was, left open just enough to reveal an ill looking young man in a courier’s uniform. Gilbert pushed the door open more, looking down at the boy in confusion. “You there! Boy! What are you doing up here? How did you get in this room?” he demanded impatiently.

The boy – who couldn’t have been more than 19, at the most – sprang up, eyes flickering in surprise and – something akin to horror. He started blabbering away in French, until Gilbert raised a hand to silence him.

“I take it you do not speak German,” he said in heavily accented English. “What about this? Do you understand me now?”

The boy nodded. “Je n'ai pas vraiment parler anglais, mais je comprends,” he said quietly, refusing to look directly at Prussia.

“You… don’t speak it, but you understand it?”

“Oui.”

“Fine, then. What are you doing up here?”  
“Je suis perdu. L'un des soldats - il m'a envoyé ici, comme une plaisanterie,” the boy whispered nervously.

“You’re – lost? One of the soldiers sent you up here as a joke,” Prussia confirmed, staring at the boy. He looked almost familiar, but he couldn’t quite place him in this half-light. There was one thing he knew for certain, though – this boy was _not_ human.

The boy nodded slightly, still refusing to look him in the eye.

“How did you get in this room? All the doors on this floor are locked, except for one.”

The boy shrugged slightly. “Ce n'était pas le cas.”

“This one wasn’t?”

“Oui, elle ne l'était pas.”

“You look familiar to me. Have I seen you somewhere before?” Gilbert demanded, his curiosity getting the best of him at last. The boy started babbling again, shaking his head ‘no’ and his hands flailing wildly in front of him, clearly trying to explain that Prussia had never seen him before. The action reminded him almost immediately of America, which was when it hit him – this was the little New World upstart’s brother, the one that still belonged to Arthur. “I _have_ seen you somewhere before. You’re one of England’s brats, aren’t you? The one related to America. I don’t remember your name, though.”

The boy let out an impressive-sounding stream of French curses, one he’d never heard the likes of before. It sounded almost like he was praying, to Gilbert’s ears. “Please, don’t kill me, sir, I swear I wasn’t spying or anything!”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

The boy gulped nervously, his eyes screwed shut as if bracing for a hit. “I’m Canada, sir. The Dominion of Canada, if you want to get technical about it.”

Gilbert tried to contain a laugh at Canada’s pronunciation of the word ‘about’, only barely managing it. And he’d thought _his_ accent was funny sounding. “You’re America’s brother, correct?”

“Y-yes, sir. That’s me, unfortunately.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, don’t you? Now, tell me, what are you doing here, deep within enemy territory in a uniform that does not belong to you or your soldiers?”  
“I was looking – I was looking for France, sir. I wasn’t spying or anything, I promise. _Please_ don’t kill me! I swear, I’ve got no useful information for _either_ side, I was just looking for France.”

“Why were you looking for her? She surrendered almost a year ago. Is news so slow to cross over the Atlantic?”

“We hadn’t heard from her in a long time. We – no, _I_ was worried. In any case, I live in London pretty much all the time,” Canada said, clearly irritated at having to say this. “News doesn’t take long to travel across the Channel.”

“So, you’re one of _those_ colonies – both France’s and England’s. Which one were you?”

“I used to be _Nouvelle France,_ ” the boy said softly, looking down at his gloved hands. “I swear, I was just looking for my _Maman_. We – we hadn’t heard from her –”

“So you come all this way, stealing a uniform and masquerading as a courier, and instead of finding your mother, you find that _thing_ pretending to be her,” Gilbert growled through gritted teeth. “You’ve got guts, kid. Half the soldiers here would do well to look to you, even if you’re technically the enemy.”

Canada shrugged slightly. “If you say so, sir.”

“Call me Gilbert. I like you, you haven’t cried yet. Your brother would’ve been in tears by now,” Gilbert said gleefully, grinning menacingly.

“I don’t think I will, sir. And Al’s not as much of a wimp as you think he is,” Canada said passively.

“It’s adorable, that you come to his defense so quickly. It must make you awfully angry, that he hasn’t jumped into this mess yet.”

“You’re purposely trying to make me angry, aren’t you?”

“It’s the best way to get the worth of a man.”

“You’re going to be waiting an awful long time to get the worth of me, then. I don’t get angry very easily. Well, not _visibly_ angry, anyway.”

Gilbert laughed at that. “Nothing like that father of yours, huh?”  
“No, sir, I like to think I’m nothing like him at all.”

“So. What’d you think of Marie?”

Canada tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Who’s Marie?”

“It’s what she named herself. She won’t answer to Françoise.”

“… After Marie Antoinette, I assume?”

“Got it in one, kid. You’re much smarter than that brother of yours.”

“I love Al dearly, but that’s really not saying much,” Canada said wryly, smirking slightly. “But… she was – _wrong_. She didn’t even recognize me. She offered to – to –”

“Fuck you? You and half the German army at this point, kid.”

Canada nodded slightly, his skin going paler than before. “I had to – I had to spell it out for her, who I was, and then – she was so _happy_ to see me, but it was still all _wrong_. She didn’t even remember that she used to call me her _trésor._ Kept insisting I was her little darling, her dear one. She didn’t smell right, she looks _completely_ wrong, but – she seemed like she fit so well there, in those rooms. It was disgusting. She asked me to leave, before Germany came and killed me, so I did, and then I came in here and was immediately sick in that vase,” he said factually, jerking his thumb towards a rather ugly looking porcelain vase. “Then you came in here, practically gave me a heart attack, and now are weirdly _not killing me_.”

“Well, I don’t kill the people I like,” Gilbert said almost cheerfully. “Generally speaking, anyway. You want me to take you to her?”

“Take me to – _who?_ ” Canada asked, clearly very confused.

“Françoise, kid! I thought you were the smart one? I know where she really is. Doesn’t look a thing like herself, of course, but I know where she is. Roughly. I think. I can get you to people who can get you to her, at the very least.”

“Why should I trust you? You’d probably take me to some prisoner camp, not to her. I _am_ the enemy, after all, and I’m deep within your territory. I should be dead right now.”

“I already told you, I like you. You’ve got guts, brains, and a sense of humor. None of those things are normally something I’d exactly expect out of one of Arthur’s brood, and you’ve got all of ‘em. Besides, I owe Franzy big time. Least I could do is return her favorite kid to her.”

“H-her favorite? _Really?_ ”  
“Kid, she never shut up about you. _Ever._ Giving you up to England was one of her biggest regrets, I can tell you that much. Look, I can take you into Paris, but you’ll have to get yourself inside the Resistance movement on your own. You think you can do that?”  
“I infiltrated the Vichy government with no problems, didn’t I?”

“I suppose that’s true. C’mon, we’ve got to get out of here before my brother is no longer… _occupied,_ ” Gilbert said, shivering slightly. “Otherwise we’ll _both_ be dead.”

“Well, that’s a relief, I guess, that I won’t be the only one to die if we get caught.”

“You’re a downright brat, you know that?”  
“That’s what everyone tells me, sir, all the time.”


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nekropunx88, puppyrock3, and rubychords for all the help!

** Chapter Two **

 

**_March 19, 1941_ **

**_Paris, France_ **

The car trip into Paris had been possibly one of the most confusing and frustrating trips Matthew had ever been on in his entire life. Not only had Prussia _not_ killed him, he kept on complementing him the whole ride there. If he didn’t known better, he would’ve said that the older nation was _flirting_ with him.

War clearly did bizarre things to people. That was obviously the only viable explanation for Prussia’s behavior.

The last words Prussia had said to him before kicking him out of the jeep were “Ditch the uniform, kid, and don’t get yourself killed. Good luck finding her. Tell her I’m sorry for not being able to stop Luddie, okay?”

Matt had easily promised to fulfill that request, leaving both the jacket and the hat he had in an abandoned alley within a half-hour of arriving in Paris. It was still far too cold to be wandering around without a proper coat, but Matthew had barely felt the cold, at least initially.

Now, five days after he’d first arrived in the City of Lights, he still hadn’t found any pockets of the Resistance. He was hungry, cold, and absolutely exhausted, and more than a little grumpy, if he was going to be perfectly honest.

He’d been ill several times already, filled to the brim with anxieties about seeing his mother again. He’d slept poorly, forced to watch the skies nervously at night while hoping a bomb wouldn’t randomly get dropped on him again. During the day he’d wander the streets, watching the people pass by in hopes that one of them would lead him to a Resistance hideout.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting – a big neon sign flashing “Resistance Entrance Here” would’ve been too much to hope for, at this point – but he was getting really tired of looking for something he had no idea how to find. He knew he had a couple of tails following him around, but he didn’t know whether they were Resistance, or just kids looking for a handout. There was no way he could catch them, either – by the time he had looked around to find them, they’d disappeared on him again.

His eyelids grew heavy as he sunk down behind a set of garbage cans in an alleyway, gracelessly sprawling out in exhaustion.

 _Just a few minutes rest, then I’ll start looking for her again,_ he thought dazedly, rubbing at his face. _Just a few minutes. That’s all I need._

He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyelids fluttering shut. Within seconds, he was deeply asleep and snoring just the tiniest bit.

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**_March 21, 1941_ **

**_Paris, France_ **

****

The door to the rooms Charlotte was currently occupying slammed open, three street urchins fighting to get through the doorway first. “Miss France! Miss France! There’s a guy we need you to look at!” Their leader yelped, fighting off his friends to get to her first.

“And why should I look at him? I thought that was what I had _you_ for, Gavroche,” she said teasingly, tweaking his nose.

“We know, and we feel awful bad about botherin’ you for it, Miss France, but he was wand’rin’ around the city for _days_ , then he just collapsed in an alley two days ago an’ fell asleep! We thought he’d be dead for sure, what with last night’s chill an’ all, but we poked ‘im this morning wif a stick an’ he _moved_! He don’t even got a coat or nothin’, but he’s still alive! He’s _got_ to be one of your kind, Pony here even said, and she knows _everythin’_ ,” the boy said, pointing at his taller friend.

“Well, tell me what he looked like, Gavroche. I can’t very well go around waking up one of my enemies, you know.”

“He’s _very_ tall, and his hair’s sort of blond. Right, Pony?”

“But with red bits in it when the light hits it right, yeah. Didn’t check what color ‘is eyes was, but he’s got _loads_ of freckles,” Pony said, nodding. “He ain’t got a proper uniform on, though, so I couldn’t tell where he was from, but ‘is pants looked like the ones the Gov’ment’s usin’ for their couriers? An’ ‘e was mutterin’ in ‘is sleep, a bit. Not in German or nuffink, but in somethin’ that sounded like a mix of French an’ English? It was _weird._ ”

“He looked a little like you, Miss France,” the third child said quietly, staring down at his feet.

“Aw, c’mon, R, he did _not_. The freckles ‘ave got you all confused, is all.”

“No, he did, Gav! An’ a little like Mr. England, too.”

“You ain’t never even _seen_ England, R, don’t lie,” Pony said, rolling her eyes.

“I have too! He’s got a painting in the _Louvre_ , with a buncha stupid dogs an’ a ugly outfit an’ _everythin’_ , it says it’s him on the plaque next to it. My papa used to take me, back before he left to fight. The guy we found has got his nose, and Miss France’s curly hair.”

Charlotte pieced together the information they’d given her, then gasped quietly. “All right, have someone bring him here. _Now._ ”

“So ‘e’s a friendly then, Miss France?” Gavroche asked, looking concerned for her. “We don’t want to bring no enemies here, we’d ‘ave to move bases again, and carryin’ all those boxes of paper at night is a _pain._ ”

“He’s not just a friendly, my dears. He’s my _son,_ ” she proclaimed, giving them all a teary smile. “Now, please, go and get him for me?”

“Whatever you want, Miss France. We’ll go get Jean, ‘e should be able to lift ‘im,” Gavroche proclaimed, leading his friends out of the room. “We’ll be back soon!”

Charlotte slowly sank to the ground, hugging herself tightly as the children left the room. A few tears slid down her cheeks, her smile growing wider by the second.

Her little boy was finally coming home.

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**_March 21, 1941_ **

**_Paris, France_ **

 

“Oi, mister. Wake up!”

“Pony, don’t just _poke_ ‘im like that! At least do it in the arm, or somethin’!”

“Well, you were too scared to touch ‘im, so I think I’ll poke ‘im however I want, Gav!”

“Mr. France’s Son, _please_ wake up. She’ll be so mad at us if you’re dead.”

“R, shut _up_! He’s got a proper name, don’t ‘e?”

“She didn’t tell us one, Gav!”

Matt groaned at that, blearily opening one eye. The daylight immediately seared into his skull, making him instantly shut it again, muttering a rapid-fire stream of French-Canadian curses. “How many are there of you?”  
“Three. Four, if you count Jean back there? I don’t think you can take ‘im though, if that’s what you’re thinkin’. You’re pretty scrawny. Also, you swear weird.”

“I could probably take him, if I needed to. I’m a lot tougher than I look.”  
“Good for you, you still swear weird. Are you prayin’ or cursin’?”  
“A little of both, if I’m being perfectly honest, but that’s Québécois French for you. You were the ones trailing me, weren’t you?” Matt accused, slowly opening his eyes. The light was still mildly blinding, but less so than it was before.

“You’re a lot smarter than you look, Mr. France’s Son. Yeah, that was us. Most people don’ notice when we trail ‘em, cos we blend into the shadows proper like, an’ nobody notices a kid runnin’ around.”  
“Well, I’m not most people. I’ve been doing the same thing my entire life, so I tend to notice when someone’s trailing me. Also, my name is not “Mr. France’s Son”, it’s _Canada_. How’d you even know –”

“Miss France told us, but _I_ figured out you was a nation first,” the girl said proudly. “We was watching you, an’ then you fell asleep for almost two days but you didn’t die, even when it got real cold out. That means you ain’t human. So we went to Miss France, and we told her ‘bout you, an’ she got real excited but also kinda sad, I think? But she told us to bring you to ‘er. So we got Jean, and ‘e’s gonna lift you up and bring you to ‘eadquarters, if you can’t walk there.”

“Wouldn’t it be smarter of you to blindfold me and take me in?”  
“Miss France wouldn’t like that, I don’t think,” the second boy said. “She said you were her son, and it wouldn’t be appropriate of us to blindfold you, if that’s true.”

Matt made a slight humming noise, nodding his head marginally. “You’re probably right about that. All right, I’m gonna try to stand up now, okay? You can have your guy come over if I can’t walk.”

“Okay!” Their leader said, pulling his two friends back a little.

Matt stood up shakily, almost falling back down again when he tried to take a step. “Yeah, no, I’m not gonna be able to make it there. How long did you say I was out for?”

“Pony said you were out ‘bout two days. She’s mostly the one who was watchin’ you – we got bigger problems than _you_ to watch for, after all.”

Matt let off another stream of curses, running a hand angrily through his hair. “Okay, get your guy, please. It’s long past time I got moving again.”

“You got it, Mr. France’s Son! ‘Ey, Jean! Come lift ‘im!”

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**_March 22, 1941_ **

**_Paris, France_ **

 

“Why should we believe you, when you say that you’re a Nation? The only thing we have to go on is the word of some street rats.”

“It’s a sad state of affairs, when nobody takes you for your word,” Matthew sighed, rubbing tiredly at his face with one hand. “Why would I lie about being a Nation? Especially _Canada_. If I was going to lie about who I was, I would’ve said I was America, or something!”

“We would like for you to prove you’re a nation, before we let you near Miss France.”

“See, the impression I got is that I was supposed to go _straight to her_. Not get stopped by some – poncy middleman, who thinks he’s being helpful by protecting his nation against an _unarmed_ , relatively harmless _Dominion._ You really think I can hurt her in her own _territory_?”

“The Nazis split her in two. We are not taking any chances.”

“Yeah, that’s Empire Madness for you. Nothing’s gonna stop you, once you’ve got that going. Seriously, how am I supposed to prove to you I’m a nation? Stab myself?”

“We – we were thinking more that you could – speak to us in the Nation’s Tongue.”  
Matthew looked at the tiny man in front of him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “There’s no such language.”

“We were told there was.”

“By whom, exactly? Because they were lying to you.”

“None of your business, sir. If you cannot speak to us in the Nation’s Tongue –”

“It’s _not a real language._ If it was, The Great War would’ve gone a _lot_ differently for me,” Matthew interrupted impatiently. “Hell, my _childhood_ would’ve gone much better than it did! Look, give me a knife, or a gun, or whatever sort of weapon you want. I can injure myself, let it heal over, and then we’re done. Right?”

“We do not want to arm you, sir,” the man said nervously, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and blotting his face with it.

Matthew groaned, sinking forward until his head hit the table in front of him with a dull _thud_. “Of course you don’t. Look, have one of your men – I assume you’ve got them, waiting outside? Have one of them come in and – I don’t know, stab me, or something.”

“You seem very enthusiastic to be injured, sir.”

“Just get it over with already! I want to see her, and I’m not seeing any other way to ‘prove’ to you that I’m a Nation,” Matthew growled impatiently. “She could easily take care of any problem I created, though. She would still be more powerful than I am.”

“You could easily overpower her, though! You’re much larger than she is.”

“She’s still technically a full nation, and I’m still technically just a Dominion – a glorified _colony_! If you know _anything_ about our kind, that’ll tell you everything you need to know, right there. Plus, she has over a _century_ more battle experience than I do. Please, just – get it over with. I need to see her, _please_.”

“We cannot do that! She has told us we are not to hurt our prisoners.”

“Fine! Fine. Even though I’m not a prisoner, I’m here of my own free will. But you want proof, so… I’ll prove it, once and for all,” Matthew growled, taking a deep steadying breath before slamming his right wrist violently into the table. It made several loud cracking sounds as he pulled away, and he let out a tiny whimper of pain, followed by a mumbled curse. The bones were very clearly broken as he held it up to the light. After only a minute, though, they started to snap loudly back into place. Matthew bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming. “That p-proof enough, for you?”

The man sitting in front of him looked faintly nauseous. “Y-yes, sir, that is proof enough. One moment, please.”

Matthew watched boredly as the lackey scuttled away, shutting the heavy iron door behind him. His wrist gave one more _crack_ as it settled back into place, making him wince slightly. He started to hum to himself, a familiar lullaby from his childhood, as the minutes grew longer and longer, and the room grew more and more oppressively silent.

After what felt like eons, the door finally cracked open, revealing a woman with dark brown, wildly curling shoulder-length hair, and eyes the color of blood.

Matthew stood up as she entered the room, drawing himself up to his full height. Her eyes lit up excitedly, and her smile drowned out any fears he had previously.

She still felt slightly… _off_ , but this was _definitely_ his maman.

“Mathieu, my precious treasure, my darling boy!” she cried, leaping at him and wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. “They told me you were here, but I wasn’t sure whether or not to believe them. However did you make it? And why were you wandering around Paris without a coat? It’s a miracle you didn’t _freeze_ to death out there!”

Matthew laughed quietly, gladly returning her hug. “One question at a _time_ , Maman, please! I was wandering around Paris without a coat because I had to ditch the one I was wearing. It wouldn’t have looked good for an official government courier to be out looking for the resistance. That’s how I got into France in the first place, too – I stole the uniform, and posed as one of them until I found out where – where I thought they were keeping you.”

Her smile fell immediately, and she took a step back from him and looked him over sadly. “Oh, _Mathieu_... I’m so sorry, I really am. You – you met her, then?”

He nodded slightly, sighing quietly. “Yeah, I did. She – she claimed she was you, that I was her son, but… I knew she wasn’t you, it was immediately obvious she wasn’t. Prussia said she wouldn’t answer to Françoise.”

“Nor will I, for that matter. It feels… _wrong_ , somehow. I’ve been going by Charlotte, instead,” she said quietly, reaching up and running her fingers gently through his hair. “So, where were they keeping her? It couldn’t have been easy for you to get in, wherever she was…”

“All I had to do to get in was hop the fence at Versailles. Their guard units were kind of abysmal, after that.”

She looked like she’d had the breath punched out of her. “They’re keeping her at _Versailles_? Next you’ll tell me they’re letting her stay in my old rooms, whoring her out to any passing soldier. That they’re calling her _Marie_.”

He blushed furiously at that. “U-unfortunately, y-yeah, eh? That’s _exactly_ what they’re doing. On both accounts.”

“Oh, Mathieu. I’m so sorry you had to see that. She didn’t _hurt_ you, did she?” she asked, frowning slightly.

“Only by claiming to be you. I honestly don’t think she could hurt _anyone_. She seemed pretty harmless to me.”

“Well, she hurts _me_ by existing, and claiming that you’re _hers._ ” she said, something dark flashing in her eyes.

“I don’t belong to anyone, though, not really. Not anymore,” Matthew pointed out gently. “I’m nobody’s colony. I’m mostly just Canada, now.”

“Yes, but you’re still my little boy, deep in my heart. Even _if_ you did somehow become a giant, while I wasn’t looking,” she said, reaching up and carefully adjusting the collar of his shirt. “What happened to my tiny angel, hm? When did he grow into such a tall, handsome, _brave_ young man?”

“Aw, _Maman._ Come on, it wasn’t _that_ brave. Any son would’ve done it.”

“Do _not_ try to downplay this, Mathieu. It was _very_ brave of you to infiltrate the Vichy government. Braver still that you wandered around France, looking for me. Don’t you _dare_ pretend it wasn’t brave of you, to do what you did.”

“Well, all right, Maman. If you insist. I don’t think it was, though – I think it’s what _any_ son would do for his mother.”

“You’re very sweet, my treasure, but it definitely isn’t,” she said insistently, gently cupping his cheek with one small hand. “Now, come, let’s get you cleaned up and out of the rest of that uniform, hm? It wouldn’t do for my son to look as though he works for the false government, now would it?”

“No, I guess it wouldn’t,” he murmured, unconsciously leaning into her touch, smiling brightly. “You’ve got clothes that’ll fit me somewhere?”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to find _something_ that will fit, my precious treasure,” Charlotte said insistently, dragging him out of the cell.

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**_March 24, 1941_ **

**_The Palace of Versailles, France_ **

 

Gilbert jumped slightly as the door slammed open, revealing his younger brother.

“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal brother, returned home from the war front at _long_ last,” he drawled sarcastically in German, shoving the reports he was reviewing aside. “How’re things out there? You manage to take over England, yet?”

“Your mockery is not amusing, brother.”

“Who said I was mocking you? I’m serious, nobody tells me anything. I’m guessing by your reaction that he hasn’t, though.”

“Maybe if you would take your responsibilities more seriously, people would tell you things. No, England has not yet accepted his fate. It is only a matter of time, though.”

“I take my responsibilities plenty seriously, West. I’m still here, aren’t I? You’re keeping me cooped up here like a bird in a cage, when I should be out there _fighting_ , not stuck here playing pimp to only one whore!” Gilbert yelled, pounding his fist on the desk out of frustration.

“She is not a whore, brother. She is doing what is necessary for her continued survival,” Ludwig said passively, not even flinching at his brother’s outburst.

“By sleeping with every soldier that passes through here? That’s what a whore _is_. Seriously, what did I do to deserve this? I should be out there, making our enemies fear our might! I’m not made for diplomatic bullshit, or running a glorified whorehouse out of goddamn _Versailles_!”

“I would refrain from calling her a whore again, brother. You won’t like the consequences, if you do. In any case, you know _exactly_ what you did to get this post,” Ludwig said icily, idly adjusting his gloves.

“C’mon, West. You know I don’t deserve this. I – I can’t take it much longer, cooped up here. I _need_ to be out there, not stuck in here with – with _her._ It’s a mockery of who I am.”

“And your continued existence is a mockery of Hitler’s will.”

“What can I say, West? That’s basically how I’ve lived my entire life,” Gilbert said, more wounded at that comment than he cared to let on. “C’mon, just – let me out of here. I’m going crazy, stuck in this gilded cage. I need to _fight_.”

“Your time is _over_ , brother. You’re a relic of the past, stuck in an era of swords and paganism.”

“So what if I am? Better than being a _machine_ , doing only as his boss orders! At least I still have _feelings_. How’s that Italian of yours? You still telling him you love him, even when you’re fucking that hussy? That must be such a laugh for you.”  
Something dark flashed in Ludwig’s eyes at that, “At least I can _follow_ orders, unlike _you_. Or did you just suddenly forget everything the moment one of England’s colonies dropped in? You couldn’t _resist_ helping him out, could you? You probably thought it’d get you back on England’s good side, so you could defect. You’ve never agreed with what’s going on here, despite it being the will of our boss. You probably can’t _wait_ to leave.”

“I – Christ, West, I’m not _defecting_. I think you’re playing with fire with some of the things you’re doing, but once I’ve picked a side? I’m on it, for better or worse! The kid was looking for France, and instead he found _her,_ so I helped him get out of here. He wasn’t spying for England – he was a scared kid, looking for his mother, because he hadn’t heard from her in almost a year!”

“Do you honestly think that is a good excuse? He’s the _enemy_ , brother. It doesn’t matter what he was doing here – you should have immediately notified me, so that I could have dealt with him properly.”

“It’s not a fucking excuse, West! Christ, the kid was _harmless_. He didn’t even have a weapon on him!” Gilbert protested, silently unhooking the sword he kept under his desk.

“Harmless? None of the brats England raised are even _remotely_ harmless, or do you not remember the last war we fought against them? One that France helped raise as well would be even _more_ dangerous. And you let him in here without a second thought. You _personally drove him into Paris._ You’re a traitor to the Third Reich, _Prussia_ , and you will be dealt with accordingly.”

“You think you can honestly scare me into submission? I’ve seen more horrors on this earth than you’ve ever _dreamed_ , brother mine,” Gilbert said, pulling the sword out of its sheath and pointing it straight at Ludwig. “You think you’re doing something new, with this war? You think you’re being _original_? Trust me, it’s nothing that hasn’t been done before.”

“It is not about originality, brother. It is about _winning_. The world should have been _ours_ , but instead they sent us into crippling debt, to pay for a war that we _won_ , by all rights! It’s about putting down anyone that does not fit into our new world order. Why can’t you understand? I thought this is what you _wanted_ for me,” Ludwig said mockingly, madness swirling in his eyes as he stepped closer.

“If you think I wanted it like this, you’re wrong! I _never_ wanted you to get a taste of the madness. I never wanted you to become like this!”

“You’d rather I stayed a weak, helpless child, then? Unable to get out of your shadow, while you devoured the rest of the continent?”

“I have given up _everything_ for you, you ungrateful little bastard! I have given up my titles, my land, _everything_ , just so you could be great! And this is how you repay me? Trapping me in a gilded cage with the awful remainders of one of my closest friends? All because I don’t fit _your_ image for a perfect future?” Gilbert demanded, voice shaking slightly. His hands remained perfectly steady as he continued to point his sword at his younger brother.

“It isn’t about what I think. You do not fit our _leader’s_ image of a perfect future. You’re weak, a relic of times long ago. Your image does not match our future. And, worst of all, you’re a disgusting little _queer_.”

“I – I am _not_! Take that _back_ , you ass-licking fucker!” Gilbert roared, finally surging forward with a scream of rage. Ludwig neatly sidestepped, quickly snapping his hand up into Gilbert’s face. The elder nation stumbled back, clutching at his now-dripping nose.

“I wish you hadn’t done that, Prussia. I was hoping to spare you, since you’re my brother, but it’s clear that you’ve finally gone mad, once and for all. Now I have no choice but to do what Mr. Hitler asks, and send you to Dr. Mengele.”

“You _wouldn’t_. West – _Ludwig_ , please! Please, don’t send me to _him_ , he’s a fucking _monster_!”

“I have no choice, brother. You’ve acted in ways that disgrace the Third Reich. Dr. Mengele has requested you several times now, but I had stopped the requests from going through – clearly out of some misplaced familial ties. You’ve left me with no choice. I’m sorry. Pack your things – you’re leaving in the morning.”

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**_April 21, 1941_ **

**_An abandoned field outside of Paris, France_ **

 

“You’re _sure_ you can’t stay any longer, Mathieu?” Charlotte asked sadly, reaching up and straightening the collar of the heavy wool coat Matthew was wearing. “Really, I’m sure that your father would believe the letter calling you back got lost.”

“He would know I disobeyed him. He always does,” Matthew sighed, looking equally disappointed that he had to leave. “Really, you know I’d stay and fight if I could. There’s no place else I’d rather be, Maman, you know that! But if he’s calling me back, I’ve got to go.”

“That’s a shame. Promise you’ll write to me, though?” she demanded, holding her pinky out to him.

“Absolutely. I’ll write every day, I promise,” he said, nodding, linking his pinky with hers.

“And you’ll do your best to stay safe?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise. You’ll do the same, though, right?”

“I’ll do my best, my treasure. You’d best get going, then, before you lose the cover of darkness.”

“Yeah, all right. And Maman?” Matthew asked as he hopped up into the waiting plane, signaling to the pilot to start the engine. “Give ‘em hell for me.”

“I promise I will, Mathieu, but only if you do the same!” She called back over the roar of the plane. “Make sure that brother of yours doesn’t get into too much trouble, either!”

“I’ll do my best, but you know Al – if he’s not in trouble, he will be eventually!”

“I suppose that’s true enough,” she said, laughing. “Now, go!”  
“Okay, okay! Until next time?” he shouted, quickly strapping himself in and telling the pilot to go.

“Until next time, my treasure!” she yelled back, waving until she could no longer see the plane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some points of clarification:
> 
> \- Sorry for slapping you guys in the face with the Les Mis references (I'm not actually sorry in the slightest).
> 
> \- Please assume that for ALL conversations involving Matthew and Françoise that they're speaking French, unless explicitly stated otherwise.
> 
> \- No, Ludwig is not a good guy in this, but... he's also not fully in control of himself. I've mentioned "the Empire madness" before - it's basically what happens when you feel like you can take over the world. You lose control of yourself - in this case, Ludwig is literally counting on his bosses to keep him under control.  
> It doesn't excuse his actions, but it does give some reasoning behind them.
> 
> \- Prussia is technically dissolved, at this point in time. Not officially, obviously - that was done after the war - but Austria and Prussia are technically part of Germany at this point.
> 
> \- Dr. Josef Mengele was also known as the "Angel of Death". I've bent the timeline a little here - he didn't start working at Auschwitz until 1943. He performed "medical experiments" on many different prisoners at Auschwitz-Birkenau, including (but not limited to) attempting to change eye color with different chemicals and randomly removing organs from his "patients". His preferred "patients" were sets of twins, though he'd take almost anyone he could get.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to puppyrock3, rubychords, and nekropunx88 for the help!

** Chapter Three **

****

**_December 15, 1941_ **

**_London, England_ **

****

“Really, lad, it’s comparatively nothing to what I’ve been through. Stop complaining about it,” Arthur ordered, looking up at Alfred over a stack of papers.

“I’ve mentioned how much it hurts _once_ , dad. That’s not complaining about it, that’s informing you that I probably shouldn’t be left standing too long, or I’ll pass out!” Alfred groaned as he leaned slightly on the desk, trying to keep any weight off his left foot.

“One little attack on a lone air base is hardly an injury, Alfred. Really, it’s very insensitive to complain about it to those of us who have taken much more.”

“I’m – oh my _god_ , dad, I’m not complaining about it. I’m telling you that it’s the first time since my goddamn _Civil War_ that I’ve been attacked, and it still kind of hurts, and that standing for too long makes me feel like I’m going to pass out!”  
“That sounds like complaining to _me_. Really, you’re as bad about dealing with pain as that brother of yours. One little wound and you can’t stop whinging about it! The two of you were spoiled rotten as children, and I personally blame Francine for that.”

Alfred rolled his eyes in irritation at that. “I wasn’t raised by her, I was raised by _you_.”

“Yes, but she helped you with your little… rebellion. That’s close enough, in my opinion.”

“Are you _ever_ going to get over that? It was almost 200 years ago!”

“200 years is almost _nothing_ , when you’ve been alive as long as I have. You really are such a _child_ sometimes.”

“It’s still a pretty long time to be holding a grudge. So I left, big deal! All kids’ve got to leave the nest at _some_ point. You can’t keep us around forever, that’s not healthy for anyone.”

“You decided to leave when things got a little rough for you. It was your _place_ , as a colony, to help pay for any wars that came by, especially one that was partially fought on _your_ territory! Your _brother_ never complained about it, and he’s as useless and whiny as they come,” Arthur sighed, grabbing another report off the top of the stack.

“Mattie didn’t complain about it because he barely spoke English when you got him! Christ, dad. Quit raggin’ on him all the time, he’s not _useless._ You just hate him because mom owned him first.”

“Really, Alfred, I don’t know _where_ you get these ideas from, or why you’re so quick to jump to his defense! He’s lazy, gutless, and _worthless_. You, at least, had value. _Potential._ Though you’ve wasted it all, really. Shame.”

“If he was so _worthless_ , why’d you bother taking him, then?” Alfred demanded, practically vibrating with anger. “Why’d you want him so badly, if he’s so goddamn useless to you?”  
“It’s far beyond your understanding at this point, lad, and I don’t have time for this argument. I’m glad you didn’t wait until the last bloody minute to join the war effort, but really, I don’t have time to deal with your bleating at the moment.”

“Ugh, _fine_. Keep treating me like I’m five years old.”

“I’ll stop treating you like a child when you stop _acting_ like one, Alfred. Run along now, would you? I’ve got work to do.”

“Fine, I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” Alfred muttered viciously, limping out the door as quickly as he could and deliberately slamming the door shut behind him.

“It annoys him more if you leave the door open behind you. Then he has to get up and shut it himself,” Matthew said quietly, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

Alfred jumped slightly, hissing in pain as he jarred his ankle. “Christ, Mattie! Don’t just sneak _up_ on me like that! You’re gonna give me a heart attack, one of these days!”  
“Sorry, Al. You know I can’t really help it, eh?”  
“Yeah, I know. You and your weird invisibility, or whatever it is.”

“I’m not trying to do it on purpose, I swear. So, how’re you doing, after… everything?”

Alfred sighed, rubbing at his face tiredly. “Honestly? I’m mad as hell, and my ankle really fuckin’ hurts after what Japan did, but I’m glad I finally got an excuse to jump in. That lend-lease stuff was driving me _nuts_. What about you?”

Matthew hummed slightly, giving a tiny shrug. “I’ve been better, but I’ve also been a lot worse. Mostly I’m just sick of waiting to _do_ something. Apparently I’m not capable of fighting down in Egypt, because it’d be too warm for me, or something, and father doesn’t want me up fighting the Germans here.”

“Well, that’s dumb. You’re probably the best fighter he’s got, ‘cept for maybe Oz or Lin. What’s he having you do, then?”

“Paperwork, mostly. Sometimes, if I’ve been _very_ good, I get to be a courier,” Matthew said dryly, rolling his eyes in clear irritation. “And then he has the _gall_ to call me useless, just because I’m not off fighting somewhere, even though it was _his_ order that made it so I have to stay here.”

“God, Mattie. How do you _stand_ it, being called stuff like that? I’d’ve gone crazy _years_ ago.”  
“He’s never called me anything else. How’ve you never noticed that? I’ve _always_ been useless, worthless, part-French scum. It barely even registers anymore.”

“You don’t deserve that. You’re not useless. Can’t argue the part about you being part French, though.”

“Yeah, I definitely can’t,” Matthew said, grinning brightly. “I wouldn’t even _dream_ of denying it. I’m proud to be her son, fuck whatever dad says about her.”

“So… you really did get to see her, then? You weren’t kidding about that?” Alfred asked, slightly in awe. “I never even thought you had it in you, to do all that spy stuff you said you did.”

“Yeah, I got to see her. Well. _Both_ hers, technically,” Matthew said with a shudder. “Spent about a month with the ‘real’ one, though! I honestly really miss it there. I didn’t have to just shuffle papers around from place to place. I got to _fight_.”

“So… why don’t you just… go back? It’s not like dad would miss you here.”

“Can we… y’know, maybe _not_ talk about this in earshot of his office?”  
“C’mon, Mattie, don’t be such a _wimp_. Maybe he _should_ know you’re thinking about leaving, huh? Maybe he’ll give you something _real_ to do, instead of you just… running off.

“It doesn’t work like that, Al. Do you have _any_ idea how bad the punishment would be for that?”

“You’re a grown-ass Country, he doesn’t have the right anymore! C’mon, Matt, what’s life without a little risk every now and again, huh? Are you _Can_ ada or _Can’t-_ ada? You really want to stay _here_ for the rest of the war? Or do you want to help mom out?”

“That’s not fair, Al, and you know it. You – you could always get away with _murder_ around father. You’re _still_ his golden boy, even now. I can’t get away with even a _quarter_ of the stuff that you can – he’ll _kill_ me if I leave, Al, you know he will. Especially if it’s for Maman,” Matthew complained, glancing nervously at their father’s office door.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true. Guess you’ll just have to prove to him another way that you’re your own person, and don’t need this twisted sort of coddling. I just hate seeing you stuck under his shadow, you know? You could be so _great_ , if you’d just stop being so afraid of _everything_ ,” Alfred sighed.

Matthew’s eyes grew cold at that, and Alfred knew in that second that he’d successfully convinced Matt to leave. “I’m not afraid of _everything_ , and you absolutely _suck_ at manipulation, you know that? I know you’re trying to convince me to go.”

“What? Nooo, c’mon, why would I do that? I’m here to fight Nazis and be a big damn hero, after all! Can’t do that if I’m wandering around France protecting you from your own _shadow_ , now can I?”

“I protected myself just _fine_ , the months I was there, and I didn’t need your help to do it, either! You would’ve got us caught and killed within ten seconds, what with your atrocious accent and your inability to _shut up_ ,” Matthew said icily, glaring down at his brother. “You think I can’t do it again, or something? That I need my _little_ brother’s help to get away with it?”

“I’m not sayin’ _anything_ , Mattie. That’s all you, puttin’ words in my mouth,” Alfred drawled, grinning slightly. “Dad would be furious, if he knew you were doin’ that.”

“Fuck you, Al! Quit trying to goad me into leaving. I’m doing as I’m told and staying here.”

“Well, of course. Wouldn’t want to stop being a – what did dad call you again? A disappointing, worthless excuse of a Nation? Yeah, that was it! You wouldn’t want to stop being _that_ , now would you.”

“Sometimes I hate you, you know that? You’re just – so _awful_. I hope you hit your ankle against something and can’t walk for a _day_ ,” Matthew hissed, stalking away from Alfred while radiating an aura of pure anger.

Alfred grinned to himself, feeling very successful.

He gave it a month, at _most_ , before Mattie tried to sneak off without him.

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

****

**_December 19, 1941_ **

**_The Palace of Versailles, France_ **

 

“Ludwig, darling, come back to bed already! It’s so _cold_ without you next to me…” Marie whined, giving the larger Nation a sad pout while patting the empty spot next to her on the bed. “Surely whatever business you have can wait until tomorrow!”

“It cannot. I have to leave tomorrow for Egypt. After that, I must check on the troops in Russia,” Ludwig replied almost mechanically in rough-sounding French, as he dug around in his coat for his lighter and cigarettes.  
“Well, that’s _boring_! Why can’t your bosses let you have a little _fun_ , every now and again? I don’t like these surprise visits, darling. Why can’t you just stay here with me? Nobody ever stays. They just have their fun, and then leave me _all alone_. It’s so _sad_ , darling, I simply can’t _bear_ it any longer!”

“You’ll have to, Marie. You’ve no other choice. Besides, it’s like a present for you, every time I show up unannounced.”

“You’re just going off to play with your little Italian, aren’t you?” she accused, her pout growing deeper. “You don’t really want me anymore, because I’m used goods. He’s _new_ , and _exciting_ , and best of all, a _virgin_! You can just mold him to your wishes, and leave poor little me here to _rot_.”

“That is not the case at all, Marie. Cease with your dramatics immediately,” Ludwig ordered, leveling a frosty glare at her.

“You just need to unwind a little. Come on, it’s almost _Christmas_! Please stay? Please? I won’t ask for anything else, I promise!”

“… I will telegraph my bosses in the morning, to see if it is permissible. I will not promise anything.”

“Oh, hurray! That’s so _exciting_!” she squealed, bouncing up and down on the bed. “Now come back to bed? Please?”

“As you wish,” Ludwig sighed as he abandoned his quest for a nicotine fix, letting Marie capture his lips with her own.

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**_January 3, 1942_ **

**_London, England_ **

 

Alfred impatiently checked his wristwatch and sighed to himself, lightly drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair he was sitting in.

Half-past midnight. That either meant that dad had gone to bed about three hours ago, or he was still in his office, doing whatever it was that he did in there. If he’d gone to bed, Mattie would be sneaking out right about now. If he _hadn’t_ … well. It’d be another long night of waiting up for absolutely nothing.

He sighed again, grabbing the ashtray on the table next to him and lighting up a cigarette.

“Those things are gonna kill you, you know,” Matthew murmured quietly as he crept down the stairs, toting a large pack over one shoulder.

Alfred nearly dropped the ashtray at the sound of his brother’s voice, but neatly caught it before any of the old ash could spill out. “Don’t _do_ that! Christ, Mattie. Do you always have to scare the living shit out of me?” he demanded, his voice barely rising above a stage whisper.

“Yes. Yes I do. It’s one of the very few perks I _have_ in life. What are you doing out here, anyway?”

“I… was waiting for you to show up…?”  
“You’ve been coming out here every night since Christmas, haven’t you,” Matthew said in an accusatory manner, glaring down his nose at Alfred in a manner incredibly reminiscent of their father. “You just wanted to gloat, because you successfully managed to manipulate me into defying father.”

“No, no, Mattie, that’s not it at all! I mean, I have been coming out every night since Christmas, you’re right about that, but I’m not here to gloat!” Alfred protested, shaking his head slightly. “I wanna go with you!”

“You – _what_? Are you actually serious right now? You want to come with me?”

“Mattie, if you leave, I’m gonna be stuck here alone with _him_. Please take me with you? _Please_?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

“You _can’t_ leave me alone with him, Mattie! You _can’t_. I’ll never hear the end of it – it’ll be _my_ fault I didn’t stop you from leaving! Please? Please take me with you? I promise you can do all the talking, and be in charge and stuff! _Please_?!?” Alfred begged, giving Matthew his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes.

“ _Fine_ , you can come, you jerk,” Matthew groaned. “But _only_ because I know you’ll keep whining at me until I let you.”

“Yes!” Alfred practically crowed, pumping one fist into the air in excitement. “You’re the best brother a guy could have, y’know that?”  
“Whatever, Al. You’d better be ready to go, because we’ve got an hour to be out of here and on the Thames. Our ride’s meeting us there.”

“In an _hour_? How’d you get a hold of someone so quickly?” Al asked, bewildered. “My stuff’s still all packed, I just gotta grab it.”

“Good. As for how I got a hold of someone so quickly? I know a guy. Well, several guys, really, but specifically the one, in this case.”

“It’s really fucking disturbing, how you always have a _guy_. How do you always have one? Even back in the 20’s, you always had a guy for things.”

“It’s called _being resourceful_ , Al.”

“Do you just – have a guy, _everywhere_ you go?”

“No, sadly, I don’t. Marcus is a guy Maman introduced me to. Said if I ever needed to get back to France, he’d get me where I needed to go.”  
“Right, because that’s not creepy at _all_.”  
“You wanna swim across the channel? Because that’s how I got over there last time.”

“… No, that doesn’t sound like a good idea at _all_. ‘Specially with my ankle still kinda screwed up.”

“Well, there you go, then. Go and get your stuff, I’ll wait here.”

“Promise you won’t leave without me?” Alfred asked nervously as he started to limp up the stairs.

Matthew sighed, rolling his eyes. “I already said I’d take you with me, Al. Now go, get your shit, we’ve gotta get moving.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going! Geez, you don’t have to be such a stick in the mud.”

“And you don’t have to be such a whiny brat! God, _who’s_ the full nation, out of the two of us?”  
“Shut the fuck up! At least I’m not still technically a _colony_.”

Matthew responded to that with something rude-sounding in French, casually raising his middle finger at Alfred’s quickly disappearing back.

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**_January 4, 1942_ **

**_London, England_ **

 

 _Something is amiss,_ Arthur thought blearily to himself as he straightened his tie in the hall mirror. For a house that currently contained America, it was bizarrely quiet. Typically, one could hear the dull roar of his snoring at this hour, but instead, the whole building was almost eerily silent. The smell of the house was just off from normal, as well. Normally, at 0700, the faint scent of freshly brewed tea (and, on rarer occasions, coffee) had wafted its way upstairs, but today there was no trace of either. Arthur shuffled downstairs, his boots clacking sharply against the wood floor. He quickly confirmed that neither America nor his useless brother were anywhere to be seen, though both Australia and New Zealand were standing in the kitchen, looking down at a piece of paper with an incredibly confused look on both their faces.

“What on earth is the matter with the pair of you?” Arthur demanded impatiently, scowling at the two of them. New Zealand squeaked quietly, ducking past Arthur and running back upstairs, leaving Australia standing there alone. “Honestly, you’d think I was the devil himself, the way that boy acts. What have you got there, James?”

“Not sure, sir,” the boy said, handing the note over. “Neither me or Zea can read a lick’a it. Looks like it’s from Matt, though? The handwritin’s too clean to be Al’s.”

“What do you mean, you can’t read it? Matthew is perfectly capable of writing in English,” Arthur said cautiously, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Well, I dunno for sure, sir, but it looks kinda like French t’ me, an’ Zea thought that was prob’ly it too. Neither of us can read it, an’ the only language you ever point-blank refused to let us learn was French, an’ it’s the only one Matt knows how to write in that we don’t, so we figured that was it,” Australia said warily, giving a small shrug of his shoulders.

“Speak _properly,_ James,” Arthur scolded, glaring down at the southern colony. “It’s like you were raised in a _prison_ , for god’s sake. Why on earth would that useless berk write in _French_?”

“… Prob’ly to let ya know that he and Al ran off to see their mam? I heard ‘em last night, ‘round midnight or so, talkin’ how Matt knew a guy that was gonna take ‘im to France. Al was practic’lly _beggin_ ’ t’ go with ‘im.”

The atmosphere of the room immediately took on a near-glacial chill as Arthur processed that sentence. “You heard them talking about leaving – about _running off to France_ , and you did not think it prudent to wake me?”

“… No? Figured you’d be… sorta happy ‘bout it, once you woke up. Both of ‘em annoy you, right? An’ this way neither of ‘em ‘re getting in your way, yeah?”

“I am not _happy_ about it in the slightest, James! We needed America _here_ , to help – help raise morale, among the men still stationed here! As for _Canada_ ,” he growled, clenching his fists, “I don’t care _what_ that hopeless little _bastard_ does. He was always weak. Could never resist the temptation to run back to that _bitch_. All he was good for here was delivering papers, anyways.”

“Maybe – maybe it’s for the best, yeah? Al would never want to be a dancing monkey, runnin’ around Europe just t’ “raise morale”. He’s got fightin’ in his veins, pure an’ simple! He wouldn’t tolerate bein’ forced into a costume and jerked around,” James cried, a frantic tone tinting his voice. “Plus, you don’t like havin’ Matt ‘round here. You’re always callin’ ‘im a useless bodger, so ain’tit betta if he’s gone ack-wally? He’s outta your hair, so you don’t gotta deal with ‘im! You can focus on _real_ things, an’ not have to worry ‘bout him cocking up a mission or sommat!”

“You think that _matters_? My god, you’re naïve. I needed them _here_ , not scampering around after that cheap little _whore_!” Arthur growled, slamming his fist into the wall.

“Well, sir, unless you’re gonna chase ‘em down yourself, it’s already too late to get ‘em back. They’re _long_ gone,” James drawled nervously, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“I’m well aware of that fact, boy. And _believe_ me – when the two of them get back here, they’ll wish they’d stayed where they were.”

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**_January 6, 1942_ **

**_Paris, France_ **

****

Charlotte jumped slightly as someone knocked on the door, quickly drawing one of her many throwing knives. “Yes?”

“Miss France? There are two soldiers here to see you,” one of her new aides said quietly, cracking the door open just slightly, as if he was afraid of getting hit.

Honestly, it wouldn’t have been the first time it had happened.

“Soldiers? For _me_? What army are they from?” she demanded, tucking the knife back into her skirt.

“Well, that’s the thing. One’s got the British uniform on, and I think the other one might be American? But they look like they’re practically _twins_. Marcus Black brought them here, and told me that I should come get you, as soon as you were available.”

“Are you _sure_ it’s British? Not Canadian?” she asked, practically jumping up out of her seat.

“I’m sorry, Miss France, but I don’t know the differences between them. I only know it’s a Royal Air Force uniform.”

“What room are they in?”

“Miss France, you’re supposed to be meeting with some of the higher-ups today, not dealing with strange soldiers who have clearly deserted their armies!”

“Cancel the meetings for me, then! They don’t need me to babysit them, they can make decisions all on their own. Now, don’t make me ask again – _what room are they in_?”

“D-downstairs, in the first room on the right. I’ll – I’ll let the generals know you’re busy.”

“Good. You may as well inform them I’ll be busy for the rest of the week, while you’re at it,” she said pointedly, sweeping from the room in a somewhat dramatic fashion.

“Do you – _know_ these men, or something?” The aide asked, nervously following after her.

“Yes, I do! They’re my _sons_ ,” she said brightly as she flung the door open, revealing both America and Canada.

“Maman!” Mathieu cried excitedly, leaping up from his seat. Alfred looked confused for a second at the sight of her, clearly taking in the change in her appearance, before tugging on his brother’s coat and asking him something in English.

Charlotte was appalled to find she couldn’t understand their exchange. Of all the things for that no-good _whore_ to get, it had to be the one thing that she needed most right now.

Mathieu scowled slightly as he replied to Alfred before looking back up at her, smiling slightly apologetically. “Sorry, Maman. Alfred’s being a bit rude. As per _usual,_ ” he said irritably, glaring at Alfred, who retorted by childishly sticking his tongue out at his brother.

“Well, I didn’t understand anything the two of you just said, so I don’t really mind! But I’m afraid you’re going to have to play translator for a while, my treasure. It seems like when we split, _she_ got to keep the knowledge of how to speak English.”

“You do not need to have him do that,” Alfred said haltingly, clearly tripping up over the pronunciation of his words. “I understand French.”

“We worked on it after the last one, in case we got pulled over here again,” Mathieu explained. “He understands it better than he can speak it, but hopefully he’ll get better, the longer we’re over here.”

“You’re staying, then? It’s not like last time?” she asked, her eyes lighting up with happiness.

“Yeah, we’re both here for the long run, maman. It’s not like either of us were going to be of use to father, after all. We’ll do more good here in a _week_ than we would ever do there.”

“That is true,” Alfred agreed, nodding. “He had Mathieu running around as a messenger boy. I do not even want to _imagine_ what he would have me doing, but I do not think it would not be anything of use.”

“Well, I’m excited to have the both of you here, my darling boys,” she said, giving each of them a hug. “Now, tell me, what’s been happening? We hear so _little_ of what’s going on, outside of France! Any news would be welcome at this point.”

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

 

**_May 30, 1942_ **

**_Berlin, Germany_ **

****

Ludwig sat up suddenly in bed, the upper part of his right arm unexpectedly feeling like it was on fire. He watched, horrorstruck, as his flesh tore itself open, his blood dripping down the length of his arm and onto the crisp white sheets beneath him.

 _Köln has been attacked_ , his brain supplied helpfully, the pain slowly spreading across the rest of his chest, what felt like an eternity passing before he realized he needed to do something to stop the bleeding. He stood up, his head feeling as though it was spinning – and the room following with it in a manner that made his stomach jump into his throat.

Ludwig collapsed back onto the bed, tearing at the already bloodstained sheet to make a makeshift bandage for himself. The fabric ripped easily under his shaking fingers, his hands steadying almost immediately as he wrapped it around the wound.

The only logical assumption to make from this sudden wound was that the allies had _finally_ sent his men out in retaliation. He remembered that a courier had given him a letter meant for Prussia, earlier that day, with no return address, but it _was_ written in England’s neat, gently looping script.

Ludwig stood up slowly, the room mercifully staying put this time, before reaching towards his briefcase and pulling the letter out with his still-shaking right hand.   
He opened it cautiously, surprised that the contents were written in absolutely flawless German and not in English – and that the letter was so short.

 

            _I do hope you Krauts like the taste of revenge. I can only hope that it’s still cold, by the time it gets to you._

-        _Arthur Kirkland_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Arthur's something of a petty, vindictive dick in this.
> 
>  
> 
> Al's ankle hurting is because of the bombing of Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. He has a set of moles that represent Hawaii there.
> 
>  
> 
> Nearly all of the Nations smoked during this time period.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope it's really clear, at this point, that Alfred is the younger of the North America brothers.
> 
>  
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> Matthew always having a "guy" for things in the 1920's is a reference to how Canadians helped smuggle liquor into America during Prohibition. 
> 
>  
> 
> New Zealand is actually agender, in this AU, but to my knowledge, this term didn't exist during the 1940's. Biologically speaking, ze is male, and thus why Arthur refers to him as such.
> 
>  
> 
> Translation for Australia's slang: 
> 
> "Bodger" - a truly useless individual  
> "Ack-wally" - absent without leave  
> "Cocking up" - messing up in a truly spectacular way.
> 
>  
> 
> Cologne, Germany (Köln), was bombed for the first time on May 30, 1942, finally bringing the war back home for the Germans. Within 3 years, all of urban Germany had been reduced to rubble.
> 
>  
> 
> It looks like this is shaping up to be five parts, now. I'll try to get them out as quickly as I can!  
> Thanks for reading this, it means a lot to me.


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nekropunx88, puppyrock3, and rubychords!

** Chapter Four **

**_June 2, 1943_ **

**_Berlin, Germany_ **

****

“I assume your time away has been… _enlightening_ , Prussia?”

“Yes sir,” Gilbert replied automatically, staring blankly ahead. “Very enlightening.”

“It has been for us, as well. You’ve been a great help in developing some of the greatest weaponry this empire has ever seen. The _F_ _üh_ _rer_ himself thanks you for your effort.”

“I am glad to serve the Third Reich in any way I can.”  
“Good! That’s what we wanted to hear. We have a mission for you.”

“I am glad to serve the Third Reich in any way I can,” he repeated mechanically, the words rising out of his throat involuntarily.

“Good, good! We need for you to infiltrate the French Resistance, and let us know what they’re planning. Are you capable of doing this? Your brother said that you still have some ties to the French.”  
“I am capable of doing whatever is ordered. What would be required of me?”

“All that is required of you is a weekly report. You must repeat anything of import that is said to you. If you feel it is… _necessary_ , you may seduce someone to obtain information. As a whole, we do not approve of your… _choices_ , but it might work to our advantage, in this particular case.”

“I understand, sir. I will do whatever it takes.”j

“Good. We’d like to see this little rebellion crushed as quickly as possible. Do you think you can manage that?”

“I am capable of doing whatever is ordered of me, sir. When do I leave?”

“You’ll go out with some of our troops tomorrow. You’re dismissed, Prussia.”

“Thank you, sir,” Gilbert said automatically, snapping a salute before exiting the room.

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**_July 5, 1943_ **

**_An Abandoned Farm near Compiegne, France_ **

****

“Come _on_ , Mattie, it can’t hurt to relax for _one_ night, can it? I’m getting exhausted just looking at you,” Alfred whined, staring up at the hole in the roof where Matthew was waiting, sniper rifle in hand. “Besides, you promised we could do something for our birthdays, and we _haven’t_! C’mon, please get down?”

“See, that’s what you said _last_ night, and then we got shot at by fucking Krauts – who _you_ promised wouldn’t be there,” Matthew stated crossly, rolling his head back and forth until the vertebrae in his neck made a satisfying cracking sound. “I’m pretty sure one of their bullets is still lodged in my gut. We can celebrate when we’re back in Paris for _Maman’s_ birthday. In the meantime? I’d like it if you _shut the fuck up_.”

“Wow, _someone’s_ grumpy. So, can I at least light a fire tonight, O Supreme Overlord of this stupid fucking barn? I’m sick of eating cold beans out of a can. I at least want _warm_ beans out of a can.”

“Al, I said _shut up_! There’re more soldiers heading our way. I’ve got four in my sights right now.”

“Wait, what? I thought there wasn’t supposed to be another patrol tonight?” Alfred demanded incredulously, climbing up to join his brother. “Gimme the scope, I wanna see.”

“Use your binoculars.”

“Mattie, come _on_. Just for a second?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I already said _no_ , Al! Go get your damn binoculars, and _shut up,_ if you want to see them. Unless you _want_ to get shot at again? They won’t be the ones doing the shooting, either. It’ll be me.”

“I don’t really think that’d be fun, no,” Alfred said sullenly, climbing back down and digging his binoculars out of his pack.

“Didn’t think so. Grab the radio too, while you’re at it.”

“Why? You think we’re gonna need backup?”  
“I don’t _know_ yet, but I want it up here in case we need it!”

“I’m just gonna bring both our packs up, okay? Since we’re clearly _not_ leaving this barn tonight.”

“Just get up here, already!” Matthew said impatiently. “I can’t tell if this is a full company or not. They’re about two clicks away, I think? But definitely getting closer.”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming! Gimme a sec, I’m only used to carrying _one_ of these,” Al complained, climbing back up the ladder into the loft. “Which direction are they in?”

Matthew pointed silently, still peering through the scope. “I’m counting six, so far.”

“I thought you said there were four of them?”

“Two more appeared out of the woods while you were climbing back up.”

“Well, fuck. That’s not good. I could take _four_ , but six might be a bit much.”

“Nine.”

“What? Are you _serious_? God _damn_. There’s no way I can take that many of ‘em on my own, even with you snipin’ ‘em for me,” Al swore, pointing his binoculars in the same direction Matt was facing. “Wait – is that _Prussia_? What the hell is he doing out here? I thought he was at Versailles?”

“It – yeah, you’re right. That’s _definitely_ him. Last I’d heard, nobody had heard so much as a _peep_ from him since April of ’41. Just disappeared off the face of the planet. Don’t know what he’s suddenly doing out here…”

“Can’t be anything good. Should we – should we go in and take care of it?”

“I don’t know. Last time I saw him, he was… sort of on our side, I think? But I also wasn’t regularly killing off Nazi soldiers, then.”

“Ooh. That’s a good point. You wanna wait and see what happens, then?”

Matt nodded, still staring through the scope. “He looks… thinner, somehow. Like he’s less _here_ than… somewhere else.”

“Christ, Mattie! Do you know how queer you sound, right now? What are you doing, worrying about his _weight_?”

“It’s not like _that_. He’s been… tortured, I think? Pretty recently, too, by the looks of things. He’s just… _out_ of it, not watching his surroundings at _all_. Normally he’s like a hawk about that sort of thing. It could be to our advantage…”

“It’s still what, 8 of them against the two of us? Maybe 9, if Prussia _isn’t_ on our side. I don’t like those odds.”

“Still. Could be they’re just… dumping him out here? Maman said this is one of their favorite spots for that sort of thing. It’s about 5 clicks away from where they dumped _her_ , after she was split.”

“That _could_ be it. Why would it take eight guys to subdue him, though? Especially if he’s been tortured.”

“You think that he’s not still dangerous? He’s still got a sword on him. It’d take at least that many to subdue _me_ , and I’m considered _harmless_ by the rest of you.”

“Point taken, though you’re anything _but_ harmless. You wanna wait an hour, see what happens?”

“Yeah. Go ahead and crack those beans open. Might as well eat, while we’re waiting.”  
“Aw, _man_! I really wasn’t kidding about not eating cold beans.”

“You really want to light a fire, with a bunch of Nazi’s a half-click away?”

“… No…”

“Then shut up and eat ‘em cold.”

Al did as ordered, grumpily cracking the can open. “You gonna eat? Or just watch Prussia?”  
“Someone’s got to watch, and at least you eating means you’ll _shut up_ , for once.”

“Fuck you, asshole! I’m perfectly capable of being quiet.”

“Well, maybe try using some of that skill set.”

“Fine. Keep watching your best guy. See if I care. I hope you have lovely children together.”

Matthew rolled his eyes, groaning. “It’s not _like_ that, you dick! Besides, we’re both guys, and even _you_ ought to know that’s not how reproduction works.”

“Really? Because the way you’re watching him makes you look like a –”

“Say it makes me look like a girl, and you’re going to gain a new limb. It’ll be a knife. It won’t be very useful to you, I don’t think.”

“You’re a _jerk_. Does ma know you’re this mean to me?”

“Does maman know you don’t know when to _shut the fuck up and leave well enough alone?_ ”

“Whatever, jerk,” Al said gruffly, shoving a spoonful of beans into his mouth. “Still, though. You’re watching him awful closely.”

“You’re the only one of us who’s kissed him, to my knowledge.”

“What? I did not! Who the fuck told you I did?”  
“You did, back in the 1920’s. You were piss drunk, and admitted you thought Prussia was kind of pretty. Said you kissed him as a way of saying ‘thanks’ for training you.”

“I am _never_ drinking around you, ever again.”

“That’s what you always say, and _yet_ …”

“Well, fuck off. I’m not – I’m not like that. It’s _unnatural_ , two men being together. _Knowing_ each other that way. It’s disgusting.”

Matthew sighed quietly, adjusting his position slightly. “You realize that Father’s queer, don’t you? At least a little.”

“What?!?” Alfred practically shrieked. “No, nuh-uh! There’s no way!”

“He and Russia were going at it like rabbits during Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee. Believe me, I heard ‘em, loud and clear. Couldn’t sleep properly for a _month_.”

“He’s into dames, though! You’ve seen the way he looks at ma. _And_ at Spain and Portugal, come to think of it! Plus, he was married to one of his queens, wasn’t he? He’s not like – like _that_. You’re lyin’, you’ve got to be!”

“Al, he’s into both. I honestly don’t think he cares if they’re male _or_ female, as long as he can fuck ‘em.”

“You’re awful, and disgusting. And _crude_. You’re just so – _French_ , sometimes! I don’t know how anyone stands it.”

“And you, _mon petit frère,_ are so very _English_ , sometimes. You act as if sex is the worst thing in the world, when it’s one of the most natural things there is,” Matthew sighed, raising up on his knees to get a better vantage point. “Hold on – they’re moving again. One of ‘em has a gun to Prussia’s head.”

“Wait, what? Should we go in?”

“I don’t know, I don’t – _fuck_ , too late, they already shot him! God _damn_ it. He didn’t – he didn’t even _flinch_. He just – _sat_ there, while they shot him in the head! Jesus _Christ_.”

“Did they blow his brains out? Because that’s a _bitch_ to come back from.”

“I _know_ it is. It was a small caliber bullet at the base of his skull – he’ll come back fine, but his nerves are probably gonna be wonky for a day or two…”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Alfred breathed, looking slightly green. “You’d think these assclowns would know better than to shoot a Nation. Should we go in?”

“Yeah,” Matt murmured, lining up the shot. “I’ve got my sights on the leader. You good to go?”

“Ready when you are, Mattie. Don’t hit me this time, okay?”

“I won’t hit you if you don’t use one of ‘em as a meatshield again.”

“I’ll try not to. Ready?”

“Alright, go in three. Two. One. NOW,” Matt yelled, delivering the shot directly into the forehead of the leader. Al leaped down from the roof of the barn, charging at the rest with an almighty roar. Matt successfully picked off two more as Al crossed the field, watching silently as his brother slammed into one of them.

Prussia still hadn’t moved from where he was crumpled on the ground.

Al snapped the neck of the one he’d slammed into, grinning maniacally as the remaining four soldiers started to open fire on him. Matthew picked off another one, quickly reloading his gun as Al pulled his bayonet out, slashing at the one closest to him. A long spray of blood flashed back, gleaming in what was left of the sunlight. The remaining two soldiers dropped their weapons, running off back into the woods. Al looked like he was going to give chase, until Matt delivered a shot just before his feet.

Al raised his middle finger in Matt’s direction, giving him a friendly wave with it. Matt happily returned the salute, knowing full well Alfred couldn’t see it, before hoisting his rifle over his shoulder and jumping down from the roof, running across the field in a manner of seconds.

“He still isn’t moving, Matt. You don’t think he’s – he’s –” Al stammered, nervously wiping the blood off his glasses.

“No. He would’ve dissolved back into the ground, if he were.”

“Should we – I dunno, _move_ him, or something?”  
“With a neck wound?”  
“Right, scrap that idea. We can’t just… _leave_ him here, though and I’m sure that the two guys you didn’t let me hunt down are gonna tell their superiors what happened, which means we gotta book it somewhere else, pronto.”

“Fuck. I didn’t even – what the hell would they stop us with, though?”

“Tanks, prob’ly. Guns. Grenades, maybe. Can’t stop bullets, grenades I can probably throw back, and watching a tank go soaring through the air is one of my small pleasures in life. You… you can shoot ‘em in the head, I guess?”

“Gee, thanks for your overwhelming support in my skill set,” Matt said dryly, rolling his eyes. “You ever been hit by a grenade, Al? Because I have. Took me a _week_ to regrow my arms, and it hurt like a motherfucking bitch, too.”

“Fine, you’ve made your point. Still, though, what the hell are we going to do?”

“We’re gonna clean up our mess, pack our things, and get ready to run.”

“And by _we’re_ gonna clean up our mess, you mean _me_ , right?”

“Yeah, basically. You’ve made your opinion on my strength _very_ clear, after all. So go on, at least… I dunno, stack ‘em in a pile, or something? I’ll go get our shit packed.”

“Why do I have to do it? You dropped more of ‘em than I did.”

“You said _I_ was in charge, Al, remember? Clean up the bodies, and then poke at Prussia to make sure he’s not still dead.”

“Ugh, _fine_. You wanna burn them, or something?”

“It… seems more proper than just letting them rot out here. If they’ve got stuff to burn things, sure, but we’re not wasting any of our fuel to do it.”

“Got it,” Al said as he started to pile the bodies on top of each other, rifling through the pockets on each of them. “Oooh, sweet! Free cigarettes!”

“And somehow _I’m_ the crude one, out of the two of us.”

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**_July 6, 1943_ **

**_About 10 kilometers outside Compiegne, France_ **

****

Gilbert groaned quietly as he awoke, the entire length of his spine feeling like someone had set it on fire.

“Oh, would you look at that? Sleeping beauty finally awakens.”  
“Al, don’t be _rude._ ”

“You’re not the one who had to carry him! I’ll be as rude as I damn well please.”

“Your father would be really disappointed in you if he heard you carrying on like that, kid,” Gilbert groaned in English, the words lodging slightly in his throat.

“Well, dad ain’t here, so I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks. Mattie, I’m doing another patrol. You watch our _guest_ ,” America spat, stomping off into the distance.

“Whatever, Al! Don’t get killed out there,” Canada called after him, before sighing quietly. “I’m sorry about him, I really am.”

“Don’t apologize for shit that’s not your fault, kid. How do you get anyone to take you seriously, if you’re constantly apologizing for shit you didn’t do? That’s no way to get by.”

“That _is_ how I get by. Smoothing things over, apologizing for other people’s actions, making sure nobody’s offended… that’s how I’ve _survived_ this long. So, what’d you do to warrant getting dumped out here?”

“Sometimes it’s _really_ damn obvious you’re England’s kid, you know that? You don’t bother being subtle about things. Apparently I’m a _liability_ , though. A relic of the past. A traitor to the Third Reich. The list goes on, I’m sure, but that’s all the felt was relevant to tell me. I’m of no use to the _F_ _ü_ _hrer_ any longer, so they dumped me out here. I’m surprised it took them this long to get rid of me.”

 Canada let out an apologetic sounding hum. “I’m sorry they feel that way about you.”

“Stop apologizing for shit that isn’t your fault. They’re right.”

“No, they’re not. You’re not a _relic_. They owe where they are today to you, don’t they? Germany wouldn’t be half the power it is without your help.”

“Don’t flatter him. He wouldn’t be an _eighth_ of the power he is without me. I _made_ that ungrateful little shit.”

“See? There’s no need to wallow in self-pity. You know what you did – what does it matter what the humans think of you?”

“… I – I guess I never thought about it like that,” Gilbert breathed, something deep in his heart giving a tiny flutter.

“None of you lot do, honestly,” Canada said quietly. “You’ve been on top of the world so long, it takes a stupid little _dominion_ to make you see sense. Is it all right with you if I check you for a concussion?”

“It’s dark as sin out here. Hell, you don’t even have a _fire_ going. How are you going to check for one?”

“It’s not like I don’t have a lighter, you know.”

“Go ahead and get it over with, then. I don’t want you to keep flitting around me like a little mother hen.”

“Those aren’t very kind words to say to someone who could’ve just left you to rot. Hell, I _still_ could, if provoked enough.”

“You won’t leave me, though. You like me, I can tell.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth for me. I’ve never said that I do.”

“What is it your father always says? Actions speak louder than words?” Gilbert questioned. “I think that’s the phrase, at least.”

“It is. I suppose – I suppose I _do_ like you, at least a little bit.”

“See? I was right. I’m _always_ right.”

“Don’t get cocky about it,” Canada ordered, his coat rustling as he dug in his pocket for his lighter.

“I’m _always_ cocky, though,” Gilbert said with a smirk. “Haven’t you heard?”

“I’m about to be holding a lighter centimeters from your face. Now is _not_ the time for lewd jokes.”

“Sounds like the perfect time for them to – ow! Mein _gott,_ that’s bright!”  
“See? It definitely wasn’t the time to be making lewd jokes,” Canada said lightly, the barest hint of a smile crossing his face as he passed the lighter in front of Gilbert’s eyes. “It doesn’t _seem_ like you’ve got one…”

“Nah, my brain’s too awesome for such a dumb thing to happen to it,” Gil bragged, grinning wildly as Matt flicked the lighter off and stuck it back in his pocket. “So, what are you gonna do with me, then?”

“I don’t know yet. I have to talk it over with Al and Maman. For the short term… we’ll keep you with us, I guess? It depends on if you’re – well, defecting, or not.”

“It’s not like I’ve got anywhere else to go, kid. Or like anyone else would take me in.”

Canada mulled that over, the silence and darkness drawing in closer the longer he took to speak. “Okay, I guess I’ve got a couple questions for you, then.”

“Go ahead and ask them, then.

“Do you hate the Nazi party?”

“Yes,” Gilbert answered almost instantaneously. He was surprised to find that the answer he gave was truthful.

“Will you fight against them, if ordered to?”

“As long as they aren’t my people, yes.”

“Fair enough,” Canada sighed. “Are you commited to bringing down the Vichy government?”

“ _Fuck_ yes! I hate that puppet bitch, and the rest of the bullshit that comes with her.”

“Well, that’s good enough for me. Welcome to the Resistance, Prussia.”

“It’s just Gilbert Beilschmidt, now. Prussia doesn’t exist anymore. All that’s left is _Germany,_ ” Gilbert said, somewhat bitterly.

“Well, I guess – it’s Matthew, then. Matthew Williams,” Canada – no, _Matthew_ stated quietly.

“Matthew it is, then,” Gil said, grinning to himself in the dark.

This spy shit was turning out to be a lot easier than he’d thought it was going to be.

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

****

**_July 9, 1943_ **

**_Paris, France_ **

“Really, Mathieu, this – recklessness, it isn’t like you at all! How could you trust him?” Charlotte demanded incredulously.

“I _don’t_. I _know_ he’s going to be spying for the Nazis – I wouldn’t expect anything less! It’s _exactly_ what father would have done with me. I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him – but at least now we can feed him misinformation, right?”

“You can’t think that’s actually gonna work. He’s gonna _know_ we’re feeding him lies, he’s not _dumb_ ,” Alfred stated. “He’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. Hell, even _I_ know that’s what you do with spies, and everyone says I’m dumb as shit when it comes to that sort of thing.”

“Language, my little rabbit,” Charlotte chided gently, before letting out a gentle sigh. “Your brother is right, though. Gilbert is incredibly smart. He’ll catch on very quickly that you’re lying to him.”

“No, he won’t. He’s used to being out in front of the action. With spy work, though, you never know what’s the truth and what’s not. Not right away, anyway. Sure, it’s easiest to assume they’re probably lying to you, but if you don’t know what you’re doing? You have absolutely _no_ way of parsing out what’s real and what’s not,” Matt said confidently, the tiniest hint of a smirk crossing his face. “What we need to do is make him think he’s one of us, when in reality he isn’t. We need to tell him lies, mixed with a tiny hint of truth – be as vague and unhelpful as possible, while insisting that he knows everything there is to know. Maybe we can win him over eventually, get him to stop reporting – but for now? That’s what we have to do.”

“So, what, you expect us to be able to do that? You know I can’t lie well, Mattie, and that’s a _lot_ to expect of mom.”

“No, no, I’m not expecting that at _all_. You guys don’t know thing one about spy work, and it comes as naturally to me as breathing, most days. I’ll take care of him.”

“Are you _sure_ you can handle it?” Françoise asked gently, carefully reaching over and wiping a bit of dirt off her elder son’s face. “He’s a lot to handle, even on his _good_ days.”

“I can handle it, I’m sure,” Matt replied, doing his best not to instinctually flinch away from her touch. “It’s like dealing with Al, only _worse_.”

“Hey! I’m not _half_ as bad as he is,” Alfred protested, glaring at his brother.

“He’s a lot like you, though! He’s just more… _obnoxious_. I’m pretty sure I can handle him. Someone else will have to come up with the misinformation, though. I can’t do _everything_.”

“We’ll come up with something for you, I’m sure. But Mathieu?”

“Yeah, maman?” Matthew asked as he stood up, getting ready to leave.

“Since you brought him back, he gets to stay with you.”

“Of course, maman. I wouldn’t expect anything less. Like the bird I brought home when I was little, right?”

“It’s… not dissimilar, my treasure. He gets the same amount of rations as any other soldier, though, understand?”  
“Of course I understand! It wouldn’t be fair to anyone else if he got more, and he definitely can’t get by with less. You and Al keep talking, I’ll go deal with Prussia,” Matthew said lightly, quietly leaving the room and heading down the hall.

Prussia – no, _Gilbert_ – was sitting on the floor, looking exhaustedly up at the ceiling. “Did you know there’s 142 tiles on the ceiling in here?” he asked in English as Matthew walked into the room.

“… No? I don’t generally make a habit out of counting ceiling tiles.”

“I don’t either, but nobody saw fit to give me anything – or any _one_ else to do. So, what’s the verdict?”

Matthew blushed furiously at that, ducking his head slightly to avoid letting Gilbert see his embarrassment. “You can stay, but I’m the one that has to keep an eye on you. You do anything we don’t agree with, I’m the one that has to put you down.”

“Like a stray dog, or something? That’s _adorable_.”

“That’s hardly how I would phrase it. If you enjoy being compared to a dog, though, who am I to stop you?”

“Nah. Bestiality and – is it called pet play? I think that’s what it’s called – that was always West’s thing, not mine. I like being tied up, ordered around, and beaten. It makes getting tortured _really_ awkward, though.”

“I – I would imagine it does.”

“Aw, are you _embarrassed_? It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything, it’s just _sex_. Unless you’re a virgin?”

“It’s none of _your_ business, whether I am or not!” Matthew protested, his blush spreading to the tips of his ears. “Are you coming, or are you content to stay here?”

“No, no, I’m coming! But you’re _so_ a virgin, I can tell,” Gilbert drawled, scrambling up from the floor. “You’re just so _bashful_ about it. No son of France’s would be so embarrassed by _sex_ , unless he was still a virgin.”

“I am _not_ a virgin,” Matthew hissed, shoving the smaller Nation into the wall violently. “Not that it would make a difference if I was or not. I simply don’t talk about sex because it’s not _proper conversation_ , not because I’m _embarrassed_ by it. I’m simply embarrassed for _you_ , that you would have to sink to such… _crude_ topics, in order to make conversation.”

“Who says I _want_ to make conversation? Maybe I just want you to fuck me against this wall.”

“You’re _disgusting_. As though I would ever even _consider_ such a thing!”

“Oh, you have. I’d bet you anything that you’re considering it right _now_ , aren’t you?” Gilbert asked in an innocent manner, grinning madly the whole while.

“Really? You’d bet _anything_? Your continued existence included?”

“Well, it’s a pretty sorry existence, if we’re being perfectly honest here. Not really worth much at all. My body’s probably worth more than what’s left of my mind, at this point. You could use that to your advantage, I suppose?”

“You really must be _desperate_ , if you’re turning to me for any sort of comfort. I’m not using any advantage you give me.”

“No? Not even _information_? I know your type – you peddle in secrets and lies. It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?”

“What would _you_ know about my type, hm?”

“I know your type _very_ well. It’s your father’s, too. Secrets, lies, words of praise and damnation, gossip, whatever the case may be – you eat them up, hoping you can get a taste of some _real_ action. Not like me, or your brother and mother, oh no – no, not one bit. You deal in words, not in blood.”

“You really think I don’t deal in blood, too? Why don’t you ask the four men that I killed to save _your_ sorry ass if I don’t?” Matthew growled, forcefully slammed Gilbert into the wall again. “Compare me to my father again, and you won’t live long enough to regret it. I can promise you that much.”

“Oooh, you’re a _feisty_ one. That’ll make this a _lot_ more fun! I like whatever _this_ is _much_ better than that timid little thing you used to be.”

“You won’t like it much longer, if you keep acting like this.”

“Go ahead, kill me! It’s not like I have anything left to live for, anyway.”

“Oh, I never said I would kill you. Oh, no, that wouldn’t be any fun at _all_. Not when there’s so much power to be had from just simple little _words_. Doesn’t take much to destroy a man, that way. Doesn’t take much to drive him _mad_.”

“Well. Aren’t _you_ just a vicious little thing?”  
“I was raised by both France and England. Of _course_ I’m vicious, though… hardly little, honestly.”

“No, no, definitely not. I really hope your height isn’t the _only_ thing that’s not little about you…” Gilbert purred filthily, licking his lips.

“You really must be _truly_ desperate, to think that offering to sleep with _me_ is your best chance of survival.”

“Desperate doesn’t even _begin_ to cover what I’m feeling, kid. Besides, why wouldn’t I offer to? Franzy wouldn’t touch me if you _paid_ her to, and your brother’s – well, I’m sure you know how he is, by now. Seems if I’m to try and gain… _favor_ with anyone, you’re my best option.”

“And what makes you so sure that I’m interested?”

“I’m not stupid. I know what I’m looking for, and you’re it. Besides, you haven’t told me _no_ , yet. I don’t think I’m the only one who’s _desperate_ here. You’re absolutely _starved_ for touch, aren’t you? Nobody wants to screw a sad little _colony_ , after all, do they?”

“Shut _up_!” Matthew growled, his eyes practically iced over with anger. “I’m not a colony, not anymore, and I’m not _starved_ for attention! If you really want me to fuck you, making me angry is _not_ the way to go about that.”

“So you _are_ willing! I should’ve known. Like father like son, right?”

“ _Wrong_ ,” Matthew hissed, pulling a knife out of its sheath and burying it into Gilbert’s side, waiting for the wound to start healing around the blade before pulling it back out. “Compare me to him _ever_ again, and that blade won’t be in your side. It’ll be somewhere a lot deadlier.”

“Huh. I wasn’t expecting you to actually go through with that. Damn,” Gilbert breathed, carefully poking at the wound. “That’s… actually really impressive. I like how you waited until it healed over to pull the blade out, that was a nice touch. Well done.”

“… Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome! Now, where am I staying? And is there food anywhere? I’m _starving_.”


	5. Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to C4 for all the help! Sorry this bit took a little longer to finish.

** Chapter Five **

****

**_November 15, 1943_ **

**_Paris, France_ **

 

“Mom, you _know_ I’d stay if I could, but Roosevelt’s about ready to come over here and hunt me down until I rejoin my troops! I _can’t_ risk being AWOL anymore, not when they _need_ me down there!” Alfred said heatedly in English, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

“And ‘oo says zhey _need_ you down zhere, hm? You’re doeeng good work up here, both you _and_ your brozzer. _I_ steel need you here, _mon lapin_ ,” Charlotte said slowly, clearly struggling to form sentences.

“Maman, don’t try to guilt him into staying! That’s not fair,” Matthew piped up indignantly. “I’m sure he _wants_ to stay, but… he’s got his orders. And he’s _always_ cared more about breaking the rules than I have.”

“It’s true. I’d give _anything_ to stay, but they need me down there. This isn’t me abandoning you, or – or running off to play the hero, I promise! I can’t afford to stay here anymore. I’ll get pulled back home if I do, and I’d be next to useless to everyone if I was _there_.”

“That’s true as well! Besides, you’ve wanted someone in Italy for _ages_ now. Why not send him?”

“Yeah, I promise I’ll still be useful! I just can’t be useful _here_. Besides, you’ll still have Matt! He’s better at the spying and stuff anyway.”

“We could bring Prussia in to replace Al, too,” Matt suggested quietly. “He’s doing us no good sitting in here, when we could use him for fighting.”

“You theenk we can trust him now, Mathieu?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say _that_. I think he’s not being utilized to his full potential, and that… being allowed to fight would bring him fully over to our side? It’s ultimately up to you, but I personally think it’s worth a shot.”

“Besides, Prussia’s one of the best damn fighters out of all of us,” Al said pointedly. “Making him sit in here’s a downright waste of God-given talent, really…”

“How long ‘as he been begging ze two of you to fight?”

The boys looked at each other before shrugging almost simultaneously. “Basically since he got here?” Alfred guessed.

“Maybe a week or two after,” Matthew said after a few seconds of thought. “But basically the whole time he’s been here, yeah.”

“Mom, the worst he could do is try to sabotage a mission. And it’s not like Mattie couldn’t put him down, if he needed to.”

“Wouldn’t even be that hard to do, honestly. Worst comes to worst, we lock him back in here and don’t let him out again. I don’t think he will, though – I think this is honestly the push he needs to come over to our side, once and for all.

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**_January 23, 1944_ **

**_Anzio, Italy_ **

****

_Dear Mom,_

_We’ve successfully landed just south of Rome! Hopefully it won’t take us much longer to liberate it. Dad says he wants to see me back in England by May at the latest, so I don’t really want to get stuck here._

_So, do all you European nations just know when others of us are in your country, or something? Because I was greeted almost immediately by Italia Roma, who says she killed five men with her shoe by the time it took me to get my stupid, fat ass on dry land. I’m inclined to believe her. Her shoes are terrifying, and I remember how she was in the 1920’s. She’s still damn good with a gun. Still awful pretty, too. (I don’t think me and Mattie are like that, though, with the sensing thing. I can never tell when any of us are nearby, so… he’s gotta basically be the same, right? Or, well, maybe not. He’s always been smarter than me.)_

_Hope you’re still doing well! I miss you and Mattie lots, even if it is a lot warmer here than back in Paris._

_Best of luck over there!_

_Your little rabbit,_

_Alfred F. Jones_

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**_May 1, 1944_ **

**_London, England_ **

 

The meeting room was agonizingly silent as Matthew entered it, but for the idle shuffling of papers.   
“Well, look who it is. The prodigal son, come home at _long_ last,” Arthur said scathingly, leveling an icy-cold glare at his eldest son from across the table. “Have you finally come to your senses and decided to return to where you belong?”

“No. I’m only here because _maman_ asked me to be,” Matthew said quietly as he sat down. “Otherwise I would still be in France. She asked me to act as a mediator and translator for the group.”

“Well, you’ll be absolutely _useless_ , then, won’t you? Francine understands English perfectly well, as does Russia. I _really_ don’t know why I expect anything else from you, though. You’ve always been like this.”

“Really? Me basically running your household while you went off and conquered the rest of the world was _useless_? That’s news to _me_. But it probably would’ve helped me  less… _useless_ if you’d actually given me shit to do instead of making me play servant to everyone else around me.”

“I would watch your mouth _very_ closely, _boy_ ,” Arthur warned condescendingly. “I’m not beyond… _punishing_ you in front of the others.”

“You honestly think that _maman_ will let you anywhere near me? Let’s make a bet – can you get to me before she kills you? Because I don’t think you can.”

“You’re still mine to punish. That whore can do anything she likes to me – at the end of the day, I still own you. However… I am considering anything she does to me as _your_ fault, and you’ll be disciplined accordingly.”

“Well, that’s… _predictable_ ,” Matthew sighed as he shoved his hair back with one hand, sinking into his seat as if trying to mak,e himself as small as possible. “Unfortunate, really, but predictable. She’s still not going to let you anywhere _near_ me, though.”

“You would think this ridiculous attachment to your mother would have stopped once you were grown. Really, Matthew, I am _very_ disappointed in you.”

“When _aren’t_ you disappointed in me? Seriously. I don’t think there’s ever been a time where you haven’t been.”

“When he ‘as not been what, _mon trésor?_ ” Charlotte asked as she walked into the room, her skirt making the faintest swishing noise as she gracefully sat down next to Matthew. Arthur stared at her in outright horror as he took in the changes in her appearance.

“It’s nothing, maman. Don’t worry about it,” Matthew said quietly, shaking his head slightly as he sat up again.

“Ah. ‘E ees being a grumpy old man again, eesn’t ‘e? Zaying theengs zat are seemply untrue about others just to make ‘eemself feel better for being so… _uneempressive_?” She said pointedly, smirking slightly at Arthur.

“I am – I’m not _unimpressive_! I’m the bloody British Empire! That’s a lot more than _you_ can say for yourself,” Arthur sputtered furiously, glaring indignantly at Charlotte.

“Is _that_ what you are calleeng zat ring of fat around your meeddle, these days? To make up for all your colonies ‘aving left you? ‘Ow… _sad_.”

“Shit, what’ve I missed?” Alfred whispered quietly, clearly having just snuck in. “I _knew_ I should’ve woken up earlier.”

“Not much, they just got started,” Matthew murmured back, covering his mouth with one hand to hide his laughter.

“I’m not fat! I’m perfectly healthy; you’ve just forgotten what that looks like, since you’re practically _starving_ over there. And at least I still _have_ colonies, unlike you! Hell, you’re just a _shadow_ of your former self these days.”

“Mmm, not like you’re _so_ much better off zhan me, reely. You’re looking awfully _small_. ‘Ave you gotten even _shorter_ , een ze time we’ve been apart?”

“I bloody have not!”  
“Oh. Must be ze fact zat your son ees finally taking ‘is rightful place on ze world stage, _non_? Your time ees _finally_ coming to an end.”

“Which one of us are they talking about?” Al whispered, looking at his brother with more than a little confusion.

“ _You_ , dumbass,” Matt sighed quietly, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. “You’re the up-and-coming world power, not me.”

“Oh. Right. You’re not _that_ much worse off, though!”

“My time’s not over yet! Unlike _yours_ , which ended once and for all as soon as you rolled over on your back for those German bastards!”

A deathly silence instantly took hold of the room as soon as the words left Arthur’s mouth, the other three Nations staring at him – Matthew and Alfred with expressions akin to abject horror, and Charlotte with one not unlike hatred.

“Oh, so, ze truth finally comes out. I almost cannot _believe_ you zhink zo leetle of me, but… zhen again, Mathieu _did_ warn me zat you ‘ave an overbearing fondness for referring to me as a _slut_.”

“Well, it’s _true_. You’re so desperate for anything even _approaching_ love that you’ll let _anyone_ fuck you, won’t you?”

Charlotte looked him over like a tigress examining her prey, her red-painted lips curling in an awful facsimile of a smile. With a barely noticeable flick of her wrist, a small knife suddenly buried itself in the right side of Arthur’s chest. “At least I was never so desperate for a family zhat I resorted to stealing ozzer people’s _children,_ ” she growled, eyes flashing dangerously. “At least mine _love_ me, and do not fear me ze way _yours_ do!”

“You _bitch_ ,” Arthur breathed, staring down at the knife for a long moment before tugging it out and throwing it on the table. “You’ll regret doing that to me, I can promise you that much.”

“Next time you call me a slut, it will be _you_ zhat is doeeing ze regretting, not me.”

“Oh! I have missed the fighting? How… _disappointing_ ,” Russia sighed regretfully, the doors swinging shut behind him as he entered the room. Alfred almost fell out of his seat in shock; his blue eyes flashing with surprise and something like loathing as he stared up at the taller man. Matthew wasn’t even fazed by the other Nation’s sudden appearance, his eyes flicking briefly up at him before resuming staring nervously at the bloody knife on the table, shaking slightly with fear of all the pain it promised for him later. Charlotte and Arthur didn’t even seem to notice Russia’s arrival, both of them too preoccupied with glaring daggers at each other.

“It’s barely even _started_ , Russia,”Alfred growled quietly, still glaring up him with eyes burning like coals.

“Ah, comerade, this fight has been going on _long_ since before you were even _dreamed_ of! I am just sad I have missed the latest part.”

“You haven’t missed _anything_. And I’m not your _comerade_ , you stupid –”

Matthew kicked at his brother under the table to shut him up, glaring a little at him. “Al, calm _down_. We’re all allies here, there’s no need for all this… _fighting_. Not when we’ve got a request of them – _right,_ Maman?” he asked pointedly of his mother.

“Right, of course. _Je suis désolé, mon trésor,_ ” she said quietly, brushing a stray curl away from Matthew’s face. “Seeing as ze resistance now claims over 100,000 members – ”

“A fact I _still_ find difficult to believe –”

“ _No one asked you to believe it_ ,” she hissed, pulling another knife out of seemingly nowhere and toying with it idly. “And we ‘ave dealt several crushing blows to ze Germans in the last few months, we are formally requesting more support.”

“You’ve got mine, ma!” Alfred said brightly. “You don’t even have to ask. Of _course_ I’ll help, however I can.”

“I vould give mine as vell, but… unfortunately I have to deal with Germany on my _own_ front. It is a shame I cannot help you more, though,” Russia sighed apologetically. “I do not vish to see someone so lovely as you suffer, Françoise. If you do not mind, since I do not haff a reason to be here, I will leave now, _da?_ ”

“Of course, _Vanya_ , but it is Charlotte for now, not Françoise,” Charlotte said lightly in French, smiling politely at him. “Thank you for coming. Even what little support you can give is most appreciated.”

“But of course!” He said brightly back to her in the same language, kissing her hand briefly before leaving the room.

“Well, I’m sure _Matthew_ has already promised men, but I’m not sure I can do the same,” Arthur said after the doors had shut again, sounding almost regretful about it. “Not without… something in return.”

“And what would zis _somezhing_ be, hm?” Françoise demanded.

“My son back here, where he belongs, of course.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Matthew said immediately, panic flashing across his face for the briefest of moments. “They _need_ me over there. I’d be _useless_ here!”

“Oh, but we’ll need a _mediator_ , won’t we? Someone who knows the resistance _well_ enough to be able to negotiate between the two parties,” Arthur hummed, folding his hands under his chin while smirking faintly at Matthew and Charlotte _._ “Really, it’s the only way you’ll get _me_ to agree to it.”

“Dad, c’mon. You don’t _need_ him to do anything here, you just want him back here to piss ma off,” Alfred interjected, rolling his eyes. “Trust me, Mattie’s better off where he’s at.”

“Alfred, this is a matter for _adults_ to deal with,” Arthur said condescendingly, glaring sternly at his younger son.

“Uh, in case you hadn’t noticed, Matt and I are _both_ grown-ass men now, so the “matter for adults” thing isn’t gonna fly anymore. Get Jamie or Neal or – hell, get _Lin_ , or even _Seychelles_ back here, if you really need someone to play servant to you that badly,” the younger Nation said viciously, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring menacingly at his former colonizer. “But you’re done ordering me and Matt around, and _definitely_ done threatening the outcome of this war over some petty grudge with mom.”

“You ungrateful little _brat._ You really think you can just – order me around?”  
“Yeah, I do. Ma’s right. You’re on your way out, _old man_ , and I’m on my way _in_. So, unless you _really_ want to be on my bad side as I come to power, I suggest you sit down, _shut the fuck up_ , and do whatever they say is necessary,” Alfred said threateningly, the same light flashing in his eyes that did when Russia had entered the room earlier. “So, what’s the plan, then?”

Matthew shot a grateful look to his little brother as he pulled a map of the western half of Europe out and spread it across the table. “From what I understand, Al, your generals are calling it _Operation Overlord_ …”

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**_June 6, 1944_ **

**_Normandy, France_ **

 

“This _sucks_!” Gilbert yelled, his boots squelching slightly as he tromped up the hillside. “What the hell made you think it was a good idea to go back to England and come back in, huh? You’re an _idiot_ , Schatten!”

“What, you never went back and did something just to be part of the _moment_?” Matthew yelled back, grinning madly as he collapsed onto a rock, wiping the blood off his face as best he could.

“Not when it involved storming a beach in the _rain_ , I didn’t!”

“Don’t be such a drag, Gil. It was _fun_ , and you know it!”

“Was _not_. Don’t see why I couldn’t wait back on the other side, with Franzy and the rest of ‘em, instead of getting stuck with you and a bunch of soldiers I don’t know or trust,” the Germanic nation complained, flopping stomach-down on the ground next to Matthew.

“Hey, my boys are good guys. If you can trust _me,_ you can trust them, I promise. Besides, you know the deal, Gil.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get to stick with you, or be locked up.”

“Exactly. C’mon, you _know_ you had fun. Don’t deny it, I know you did. I saw the look on your face.”

“… Okay, I had a _little_ bit of fun,” Gilbert admitted reluctantly, rolling over onto his back. “Still not happy about all the rain and the mud, though.”

“At least it’s better than the last war.”

“Literally _anything_ is better than the last war.”

“Exactly! Besides, this is a _good_ rain. I can feel it. We’re gonna win.”

“Rain isn’t good _or_ bad, stupid.”

“Sure it is. You European types just don’t _get_ it. You’re all too detached from nature to know what’s good or bad about it.”

“You’re fucking _insane_! There’s nothing good or bad about rain. It’s just water falling from the sky.”  
“Well, yeah, what else is new?” Matt asked, grinning wildly. “Seriously, though. This is a good rain. It feels… cleansing, almost. The tides are turning. I can feel it. We’re gonna win.”

“You’re seriously crazy. _Nobody_ wins in a war. One side just _loses_ less.”

“That _is_ how winning is defined, by most people.”

“Well, you’re still crazy.”

“I’m England _and_ France’s son, when was I ever _not_ going to be crazy? I mean, really.”

“You’ve… got a point there.”

“So, what do you think? We good to set up camp for the night?”

“ _Ja_. I doubt they’ll try anything tonight, what with it raining like this…”

“You’re sure?”

“Well, _no_ , but if it were _me_? I wouldn’t want to try anything tonight.”

“Would you _order_ someone to?”

“No. Sounds like they suffered some pretty heavy losses today. I’d regroup and start planning the next move. But…”

“But _what_?”

“They’re probably not half as smart as I am,” Gilbert said as he sat up a little. “They might be _just_ stupid enough to order another attack.”

“Well, let’s hope they’re not stupid, then, eh?” Matt asked, getting up and stretching, eyes searching for any sort of cover he and Gil could take. “You think those trees over there’ll cover us?”

“Probably not, but I don’t see any better options.”

“Well, fuck.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myse- _fuck!_ ” Gilbert swore suddenly as he dropped back to the ground, watching a little horrorstruck as the front of his uniform slowly turned red with blood.

Matthew turned around instantly, pulling his gun out. “Sniper, you think?”

“ _Ja._ Damn good shot, too,” Gilbert gritted through his teeth, clearly holding himself back from letting out a flood of curses. “Got me right – right under my heart, I think.”

“Means he’d be up… _there_ ,” Matthew said, gesturing with his gun towards the cliffs. “I think – yeah, I see ‘im.”

“There’s no way you can make the shot. Not before he hits you, and not with that gun.”

“I’ve made way more difficult shots with shittier guns than this! Go, get to cover. And get that bullet out before it gets embedded in your chest,” Matthew ordered, narrowing his eyes up at the sniper, who seemed oblivious to the fact that he was about to die.

“Too – _fuck_ , it’s too late for that. Too late for – for _anything_ ,” Gil whispered, his eyes rolling into his head as he passed out.

Matthew pulled the trigger of his gun back, smirking a little with satisfaction as he made his mark before whipping back around. “Did you see tha – oh, _fuck_ ,” he breathed, noticing the blood-soaked sand and dirt under Gil’s body. “Gil, oh _fuck_ , _no_! No, you - you can’t _die_ , not _now_!” The elder Nation gave no response, the pool of blood under him growing larger at far too rapid a rate. Matthew quickly picked him up, hauling him over one shoulder while looking around wildly for a better place to hide, his gun still in hand, ignoring the fact that the albino man’s blood was starting to soak into his uniform as well.

Moments later, a hailstorm of bullets made their way in his direction, the rest of the sniper’s group having spotted him. “God, _please_ let this work,” Matthew prayed almost inaudibly, screwing his eyes shut as he deliberately attempted to turn himself invisible.

After a few seconds, the bullets stopped coming, immediately replaced by confused German shouting coming down from the top of the cliff. Matt started running up the hill, spotting a small outcropping of trees almost a kilometer away that would do better to hide him and Gilbert from another attack. He had never been more grateful in his _life_ for the unnatural speed that a Nation possessed as he set Gilbert down under them, the leaves protecting them both from the still-falling rain and shielding them from the view of any potential passers-by. Both of them immediately became visible again as Matthew kneeled down next to the elder nation, his hands shaking the faintest bit as he pulled the small surgery kit he kept in his pack out. The trembling only grew worse as he carefully peeled Gil’s blood and rain soaked uniform away, doing his best to mop up the blood in order to view the still sluggishly bleeding wound, all while ignoring the deep white scars crisscrossing Gil’s chest.

Matthew took several deep breaths to try and steady himself before pulling a scalpel out and cutting into Gilbert’s chest.

The shell was, in fact, lying just under Gilbert’s slowly beating heart, making it difficult for the Canadian to swallow his urge to vomit as he carefully extracted the bullet. Several long, borderline excruciating minutes passed before he successfully pulled it out and started to sew Gil back up; numerous longer moments passed before the sutures started to heal, the younger Nation dutifully clipping the neat stitches out as the wounds healed before rushing away and emptying the contents of his stomach into the nearest bush, collapsing against the ground in sudden exhaustion.

Several long minutes later, Gil let out an awful-sounding series of coughs, gasping as though air couldn’t fill his lungs fast enough. “ _Mein Gott,_ Schatten, what the fuck did you _do_ , cut me open with a dull knife and _dig_ the bullet out?”

“It wasn’t a dull knife, it was a scalpel.”

“Still fuckin’ hurts like it was one!”

“Well, you’re gonna have to fuckin’ deal with it! You’re lucky it was _me_ you got stuck with, and not Al, or it would still be _in_ you! You should be _dead_ right now, and you’re _not_ , so you’re fucking _welcome,_ you ungrateful _bastard._ ” Matthew said coldly as he stood, his violet eyes icing over in anger.

“You should’ve left me there. I _know_ you don’t want me around, okay? I’m not _blind_. I know you think I’m a spy –”

“No, I _know_ you’re one. I’m not an _idiot_. I deal in _words_ , not in blood, or don’t you remember? I _know_ you have to send a report out once a week, telling your _masters_ what our plans are. What our _weaknesses_ are. How they can _win_.”

“Well, if you’re not an _idiot_ , then why did you save my life, huh? Not just this time, but back in ’43 as well? Why did you even bother, if you knew I was going to be a spy?” Gilbert demanded furiously, sitting up slowly.

Matthew muttered something viciously in French, point-blank refusing to look at the other man.

“Come _on_ , Schatten, don’t be such a _coward_! Just tell me!”

“There’s nothing to tell. You’re one of _us_. There was no other option but to save you,” Matthew said coldly, still refusing to look at Gilbert. “You would have done the same thing, had it been me or Al on the end of that gun.”

“You’re a goddamn _liar_. I’m a fucking _traitor_ to a government you _hate_! There was no reason to save me. I’m sure your brother would have been _happy_ to let me rot. So would both your parents. Russia wouldn’t, if only because he wants to make me _his_. Out of all my enemies in this war, the only one who would’ve saved me was you. You’re the only one who _did_. So just _tell me why_ , already!”

“There’s nothing else to _tell_!”

“Look, I get why you – why you saved me, the first time around. You wanted to be even for me getting you out of Versailles and into Paris. I understand that, but why would you do it _again_?”

“You _really_ want the truth?”

“ _Yes_! Christ, stop being so – so – _you_. Just spit it out already!”

“ _Fine_! I’m – I’m in love with you, okay? That’s all there is to it,” Matthew spat, blushing red up to the tips of his ears. “I’m in love with you, and have been for a while.”

“… You are the worst goddamn liar I’ve ever met,” Gilbert accused, glaring up at the younger nation with red eyes ablaze. “You think you’re in _love_ with me? You think I’m going to believe _that_? Try again.”

“It’s _not a lie_! Why the _fuck_ would I – why would I use _that_ , instead of something more _believeable_? Like, I could’ve – _should have_ said that it was because I felt I still owed you. But it wasn’t, it’s because –”

“You think you’re in love with me.”

“No, I _know_ I am. And I know it’s stupid of me to be, because I’m just – the colony nobody really wanted,” Matthew said wearily, pushing his blood-spattered glasses back up his nose. “Only reason I’m a proper Nation is because I _waited_ until nobody was paying attention to me anymore to take my freedom – and it’s not much of one, let me tell you, eh? I’m still at my _father’s_ beck and call, I can’t – I literally can’t stop myself from obeying him, even now. To him, and – well, everyone else, probably, I’m just a watered-down version of my brother. I’m _nobody._ And you’re – well, you’re _Prussia_ , one of the greatest empires the world has ever seen. There’s no way you’d ever look twice at _me_. I know my place, and it’s – it’s nowhere _near_ you. That’s – that’s why I hadn’t said anything until now, eh?”

An awkward silence fell between them, Matthew pointedly looking at anything _but_ Gilbert, and Gilbert staring at Matthew in confusion.

“So. Basically what I’m hearing is that we could’ve been having potentially mind-blowingly awesome sex the whole time I’ve technically been part of the resistance, but you were too chicken to actually do anything?” Gilbert asked bluntly after a prolonged few minutes had passed.

“I – _no_! No. _No_. Definitely not. Weren’t you listening to _anything_ I just said?”

“You said you were in love with me, then you said some whiny-ass shit about you being really lame, then something about me being awesome, then _more_ whiny shit I don’t care about, and then you being too chicken to do anything. So, basically, you like me, I like you. We could’ve been having sex for _months_ , and it would’ve been _awesome_! But instead you were too chicken to do anything.”

“You only like me because I can give you information,” Matthew said accusatorily.

“… Nah. I haven’t actually given them anything real in _months_. Told them that you lot were getting suspicious of me, and I needed to back off. In any case, I liked you from very nearly the _minute_ I met you back in Versailles, Schatten. Didn’t need information from you _then_ , now did I?” Gilbert asked smugly, smirking up at the younger Nation. “You’ve got more guts than half the brats England kept under his control, and more brains than nearly all of ‘em. Plus, you’re a _mouthy_ little shit.”

“You just listed all of the things my father wishes I wasn’t.”

“So what? It’s all the things _I_ like best about you, besides how goddamn _pretty_ you are – y’know. Considering that you’re a boy, and everything. You’re a quietly rebellious little fucker, and it’s _very_ different from what I’m used to dealing with! I _like_ it! It’s _awesome_. Accept the compliment, and then get the fuck down here and _kiss me already_! You’ve wasted enough time moping.”

“I – I don’t think – you’re still healing, and probably loopy from the blood loss –” Matthew stammered nervously before Gilbert interrupted him.

“Shush! Stop _thinking_ already, Schatten. You think too _much_ , sometimes, _ja_? Just… _act_ , for once.”

“But – I don’t – this is a _really bad idea_ , okay? Just – forget I said anything. Ever. _Please_.”

“Mein _gott,_ do I have to do _everything_ myself?” Gil demanded impatiently, wincing slightly as he stood up and grabbed Matt by the collar. He grinned a little maliciously as he pulled the taller man down to his level before kissing him fiercely, swallowing Matthew’s surprised gasp. “Why the fuck are you so _tall_?”

“Uh, maybe because I didn’t hit my growth spurt in the middle ages, or something?”

“Oh my god, shut _up_. You _really_ don’t need to remind me of how young you are. Makes me feel like I’m cradlerobbing.”

“You mean you’re _not?_ ” Matthew asked, shoulders shaking a little with silent laughter. “I’m only four years older than your brother, technically. If you’re counting full nation-hood.”

“… You were right, this was the worst idea _ever._ I think I have _socks_ older than you.”

“That’s just _gross_. Why the _fuck_ would you have 80 year old socks?”

“Oh, shut _up_!”

“You’re the one who brought it up in the first place!” Matthew said, only just barely restraining himself from bursting out into full-blown laughter.

“Schatten? I said _shut up_ ,” Gilbert hissed, reaching up and kissing Matthew again until both of them were dizzy from lack of breath.

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**_July 14, 1944_ **

**_Versailles, France_ **

“I don’t understand why I have to _leave_ , though! Wouldn’t it be _much_ safer to keep me here, rather than in Paris?” Marie complained, pouting sadly up at Ludwig. “I mean, isn’t – isn’t _she_ there? She could come after me when you’re off fighting somewhere else! I don’t want to _die_ , Ludwig!”

“Marie, there is no other _choice_! I cannot afford to keep soldiers here any longer. I need them out _fighting_ , not looking after _you_!” Ludwig growled, wiping idly at his mouth with a bloodstained handkerchief.

“I can defend myself, I swear! _Please_ , my darling, don’t send me to Paris. Let me stay here, on my own. Send Austria here if you feel I _really_ need protection.”

“And what good is Roderich going to do for you, hm?”

“To save me from loneliness, I suppose? And he may be useless in battle, but in sword fighting? He is just as good as _she_ is, if not _better_. Is it not true that the only people he _consistently_ loses to are his former wife, and your brother?” she asked, a note of desperation creeping into her voice.

“That… is true, yes.”

“Then send him _here_! Please, Ludwig. I _beg_ of you, do not make me leave Versailles! They will _slaughter_ me in Paris, I promise you they will. And you – you still need me alive, yes?”

“Yes, my pet. I still need you alive,” Ludwig sighed, stroking her cheek gently with one still-gloved hand. The words _I would have killed you myself if I didn’t_ remained unspoken.

Marie shivered the tiniest bit at his touch, immediately understanding what had gone unsaid. “Then please,” she pleaded, “ _don’t_ send me to Paris! Keep me here. Keep me _safe_. I know that I cannot be – _useful_ , in the way some of the others amongst us can. But if I’m alive, that means _you’re_ still doing well, yes? That you’re still winning?”

“It means I still hold France, and that… is enough, for now.”

“So, I can stay here, then? You won’t make me leave?”

“Yes, you may stay here, and I _will_ have Roderich join you here. But in return, you must promise me that you _will not attempt to leave_ , not under any circumstances. You may not send any messages out, either.”

“No, no, of course not! I wouldn’t _dare_. I promise, my darling, I’ll stay here,” Marie said earnestly, looking up at Ludwig with wide, trusting eyes. “I won’t send any messages, either. I would _never_ betray you, though, I hope you know that.”

“I know you won’t, my pet,” Ludwig said quietly, stroking her cheek again. “You’re the only one left who wouldn’t _dare_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The Allied troops did actually land in Anzio, Italy, the day before Al writes his "letter" in the second section.
> 
> \- The Allied troops met with French Resistance leaders on May 1, 1944. The French Resistance was officially requesting more military support. This was the very beginning stages of Operation Overlord.
> 
> \- Remember how I referenced "Empire Crazies" as a thing that's happening? You guys just got a taste of Alfred's. He's starting to come into his own here.
> 
> \- Operation Overlord is also known as "D-Day", which took place on June 6, 1944. The Canadians did, in fact, storm their own part of the beach in Normandy.
> 
> \- "Four years older than your brother" - Canada became self-governing in 1867. Germany became the "German Empire" in 1871.
> 
> \- By mid-July of 1944, the Allies had already captured Rome, and were able to hit targets in Eastern Germany. The Soviet Army was building up attacks on the Eastern Front, as well. Ludwig has, at this point, lost both Italies, as well as his brother to the Allies.  
> He's also rotting from the inside, due to the effects of the gas chambers on his citizens, but he has no idea why.
> 
> Thanks for reading. Hopefully the next part will be the conclusion of this story, or at the very least, the penultimate update. I'll try to get it out as soon as I possibly can.


	6. Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of c4, for believing in me.
> 
> And for basically forcing me to put out as much as I had of this. I'm sorry it took so long.

** Chapter Six **

 

**_August 23, 1944_ **

**_Paris, France_ **

****

The fighting in the streets of Paris had grown to a frenzied rate by the time Gilbert ran out on the streets, sword in hand and a wild grin across his face. Foreign soldiers and native Parisians alike had joined together to fight against the German soldiers, the civilians using whatever they could get their hands on as weapons. He started laughing a little as he spotted a small gang of street urchins beating on a soldier roughly four times their size, armed with nothing more than half-rotted planks of wood they’d obviously scavenged off the side of an abandoned building. A sudden flash of gold caught his eye, making him turn to follow it.

Matthew was running down the street, somehow avoiding every individual fight in his flight, occasionally sparing a glance behind him. Gil’s eyes widened in horror and shock as turned to where Matthew was glancing.

Naturally, his little brother had deigned to turn up for _this_ battle, and chosen, out of all the Nations present, to fight _Matthew_.

 _He’s the one you would’ve picked too,_ a smug little voice in the back of his head murmured nastily. _He’s not America or England, who would’ve been_ much _harder to fight, AND he’s Charlotte’s biggest weakness, Lord only knows why. He’s her precious little_ trésor _, she’d do anything to protect him_. _You would have chosen him above the others, too, and you know it._

As much as he hated to admit it, the little voice in his head was right. It was why he’d chosen Matthew to seduce in the first place, not that _that_ had worked, at least initially. Then, somewhere along the way – and he wasn’t sure quite when it happened, but somewhere along the way, he’d fallen in love with Canada – no. Not Canada. _Matthew_. The strangest thing had happened, too, after that – Matthew had, and still _did_ claim to love him _back_. And with that, the fierce brand of loyalty that Gilbert offered, that had once belonged solely to the Nazi Party – to his _brother_ – now belonged to _him_. Not to the Resistance nor to the Allies, not even to America or France themselves, but to _Matthew_.

With this in mind, he stalked silently after his brother, his red eyes burning with a fury unlike any he’d ever felt before. Matthew deliberately made a sharp turn down what Gil _knew_ was a dead end alley, Ludwig not far behind him.

“Well, clearly the reports we received were false on some level,” Ludwig said coldly as he neared Matthew, the faintest hint of a smirk crossing his face. “They said _you_ were the smart one, between you and America, and yet you have led me into a dead end. Surely you must know what this means for you, _Kanada_.”

“Did it ever occur to _you_ that maybe I’ve got you exactly where I want you, _Allemange_?” Matthew said mockingly, a smirk reminiscent of the ones his mother used to make frequently back in the days of Napoleon crossing his face. His eyes flickered briefly towards Gilbert before looking back at Ludwig. “There’s really not enough room here to bring that shotgun across your back out to shoot me, and you’ve got two bullets left in that handgun and you won’t have time to reload it before I can kill you.”

Ludwig mulled this over briefly before cursing under his breath. “Perhaps you aren’t as foolish as I had thought. Then again, it’s _very_ difficult to be more idiotic than your brother, isn’t it?”

“Well, Al’s not _that_ dumb, really. He’s just better at fighting than he is at diplomacy, y’know? Not so different from _your_ brother, in that aspect,” Matthew said brightly, flipping a knife over in his hand and catching it neatly, watching Ludwig intently all the while. “They get on like a house on fire – Al’s words, not mine. But I’m sure you knew _that_ already, from your _reports_. Really, if you’re trying to make me angry by insulting my brother, you’re going to be talking an _awfully_ long while. Don’t try England, either. That’s just going to make me want to _join in_.”

“And what of the whore you refer to as your mother, hm? How quickly would it anger you if I insulted _her_?”

Matthew groaned at that, rolling his violet eyes dramatically. “Oh my _god_. If I had a nickel for every time I’d heard her called a whore, I’d be richer than the Pope himself! Is that all _anyone_ can think to use as an insult? Really? Come _on,_ where’s your _imagination?_ ”

“Imagination is for children and _fools_.”

“Mhm, sure. So which does that make _you_ , hm? Because you keep _imagining_ that you can just take over Europe, and then the rest of the world. So are you a child? A fool? Or… something else entirely?”

“I am like _nothing_ you’ve ever faced before,” Ludwig said coldly before charging at Matthew, fist raised. The taller man sidestepped him easily, almost anticipating his move, slicing at him neatly before dodging away again. The German hissed in pain, teeth bared in an awful fascimle of a smile before turning around again towards the Canadian.

“Or exactly like _every single one_ of your soldiers. Your moves are too _obvious_ ,” Matthew complained, rolling his eyes a little, watching Ludwig cautiously, his footsteps quick and light as he cautiously circled away.

“Too obvious, hm?” Ludwig considered momentarily before rushing at Matthew again, the force of his attack slamming the both of them into the wall. Matthew gasped as the air briefly went out of his lungs, as he was thrown over the other man’s shoulder and into the building adjacent, his knife falling to the ground noisily. “How was _that_ , then, _Kanada_? Was that satisfactory enough for your tastes? Not too obvious, _right_?”  
Matthew let off a stream of curses as he picked himself back up before falling to the ground again with a hiss of pain as Ludwig punched him in the stomach. “ _Fuck you_ ,” he coughed out, his violet eyes glinting ominously in the poor lighting of the alley before lashing back, another knife springing into his hand seemingly out of nowhere. Ludwig stopped his attack easily, flipping the taller man over onto the ground while simultaneously pointing his gun at him and stepping on his chest with one heavy booted foot.

“I should have known you’d be _weak_. Your kind always think themselves better than everyone, but really, you’re the weakest bunch of the lot,” the young German said quietly, cocking his gun quietly. “You and your words are good for _nothing_.”

Gilbert couldn’t take it anymore. “Ludwig, what the hell are you _doing_?” He demanded heatedly in German, finally revealing himself, pointedly dropping his sword on the ground to show he was otherwise unarmed.

“Ah, bruder! I was wondering when you’d show up,” Ludwig replied excitedly, looking almost like he did as young child – his eyes filled with a sick glee, the fires of insanity burning deep under that. “I was simply about to put this _animal_ down. It’s half-crazed, someone should have done it _long_ ago.”

“C’mon, Luddie! Leave him be. He’s no a threat to you – and killing him is just going to anger his mother!”

“All the more reason to do it. Maybe it will finally make that _bitch_ show herself, so we can destroy her once and for all.”

“You fucking _touch_ my mother, and I swear to _god –_ ” Matthew growled before Ludwig pressed harder on his chest, stopping the flow of all words from the Canadian man’s mouth as he struggled to even breathe.

“She’s not even here in Paris anymore! She’s probably halfway to Vichy by now! Leave the kid alone. Killing him gains you _nothing_ ,” Gilbert insisted, shaking his head and approaching his brother slowly.

“Gilbert, the first thing you taught me about war was that killing your enemy _always_ gains you something. Are you really going back on that now?” Ludwig said, staring at his elder brother with something like confusion in his eyes.

“ _Yes_ , _”_ Gilbert said desperately. “Look, he’s – he’s virtually worthless, in the grand scheme of things! Maybe if he was America, or England, you’d be getting somewhere, but he’s –”

“Worth something to _you_. Why else would you be so quick to defend him?”

“He’s not. He’s worth nothing to me, he was just a free ride into the resistance. He’s just… not worth the kill, Ludwig. Let him go.”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. Our message must be _clear_ – if you try to rise up against us, we’ll destroy everything you’ve ever cherished – and she does cherish this one, does she not? More than England does, at any rate. If you’re so reluctant for _me_ to kill him, then – well, brother, I really must insist that _you_ do it.”

“Why should I?” Gilbert demanded, “I’m not the one that wants him dead.”

“It’s _far_ past time you came back to us. We need you out on the Eastern front, brother, just like I had to move Austria back there. Don’t you see? Your talent is being _wasted_ here. Kill this – this _animal_ , and you can come back. You can come _home_ ,” Ludwig said calmly, holding his handgun out for his brother to take.

Gilbert stood there silently, mind flooding with dizzying options. “Fine. I’ll do it,” he said quietly, taking the gun from his brother.

Matthew’s eyes flickered back between the pair of brothers, breathing labored but panicky. “Gil – Gil, what are you –”

“Shut _up_ ,” Gilbert growled in English, blinking back a sudden spring of tears, hands shaking as he aimed at Matthew’s head. “Shut _up_ , you worthless son of a bitch!”

“You – I thought – I thought you were on _our_ side!”  
“Well, you were fucking _wrong_. Shows how much you know about me, doesn’t it? Everyone knows once I’ve picked a side, I stay on it.”

“Are you going to kill him yet?” Ludwig asked impatiently, glaring at Gilbert.

“No,” Gilbert said sharply, glaring back at his brother. “Move out of the way. I’m not shooting him in the head, that’s cowardly as shit. I’m at least giving him a fighting chance.”

“As you wish. Try not to die, would you?” The younger man said mockingly, backing away graciously.

Matthew instantly sat up as if he was going to fight back, coughing hard. Gilbert aimed for his chest, pulling the trigger quickly. The bullet sliced through the layers of Matthew’s uniform instantaneously, piercing his left lung. Gilbert felt his world crashing down around him as Matthew crumpled against the ground again, blood flowering across the fabric of his jacket.

“Well done,” Ludwig said, taking the gun from his brother. “I’ll let you finish him off for good. Try not to be too much longer, will you? You really ought to get back to Berlin.”  
“Yeah, whatever,” Gil muttered, clenching his jaw, trying to stop himself from crying. Ludwig left swiftly after that, leaving Gilbert and Matthew alone.

“I can’t – I can’t fucking – I don’t understand – you’re on _our_ side!” Matthew breathed out, staring up at Gilbert with shock and betrayal.

“No. I never was,” Gilbert said, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

“You’re a fucking _liar_ ,” Matthew accused. “Words – words are _my_ thing, remember?”

“It doesn’t matter! I _have_ to go back, I – I had to do this. You don’t understand. He thinks I’m still loyal to him.”  
“Well, you’re _not_. You could’ve killed _him_ instead. I would’ve protected you.”

“No, _Schatten.._. you couldn’t have done anything to stop him – you _saw_ how fast he took you down! _Gott in himmel_ , I’m so _sorry_ , I wish. I – I wish it didn’t have to end like this,” Gilbert said, tears falling faster as he kneeled next to Matthew.

“S’okay. Not the first time you’ve killed me, y’know? Probably won’t be the last, either,” Matthew chuckled, a little bit of blood leaking out his mouth. “You – you don’t need to cry over _me_ , Gil.”

“Yeah, I do! ‘Cause - because I _love_ you, and I just – I fucking _shot_ you, like it wasn’t anything!”

“You – oh my god. Of all the fucking times for you to say that, it had to be _now_?” Matthew demanded weakly, blood coming out of his mouth in a fine mist as he breathed out.

“Yes! When else was I gonna say it? Ich liebe dich, mein Schatten,” Gilbert said quietly, pressing his lips softly to Matthew’s forehead.

“I – _fuck_ , I love you too,” the younger Nation breathed out, voice fading almost to a whisper. “Can’t – can’t believe you would pick _now_ , of all times, to tell me, but I love you too.”

“I’m so – so sorry I had to do this, Schatten. I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

“I know. You better get going. I don’t have much longer until my lung’s flooded, and once it does, I’m gonna –”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for something that’s not really your fault,” Matthew whispered teasingly, smirking a little even as blood came out his nose in a fine mist. “You were – were just – just following orders.”

“Stop _talking_ , you’re going to kill yourself faster. And it _is_ my fault, I’m the one who fucking shot you.”

“Good. This _hurts_. You couldn’t have – have shot me in the heart?”  
“Schatten, shut _up_. If you wait long enough –”

“No, ‘m gonna be out from this for at least a c-couple days. ‘S not gonna heal itself over right away, got too many other injuries right now. Just _leave_ me, get going to Berlin. Don’t – don’t want you to get in trouble again.”

“I’m not letting you die alone! There’s _nothing_ worse than that. I’m staying right here. I’ll say I got attacked by some resistance members or – or _something_ , but I’m _not_ letting you die alone, Matthew.”

“That’s – that’s the first time you ever really called me that...”

“Well, only unawesome people don’t get nicknames from me. And you’re _almost_ as awesome as I am, so you deserve only the best,” Gilbert insisted, kissing Matthew on the forehead again. “I’m just showing how serious I am.”

“Got it. Je – _Je t’aime_ , Gilbert,” Matthew sighed, his eyes slipping shut out of exhaustion.

“Love you too, Schatten. How much longer you got left?”

“Minute, maybe.”

“Okay. I got something for you, to remember me by. Since I’m going off to the war, and all.”

Matthew laughed noiselessly at that, shoulders shaking a little. “What’cha got?”

“Need you to take care of _this_ ,” Gilbert said, reaching behind his neck and pulling his one piece of jewelry off, pressing it into Matthew’s hand. “It’s my cross. You’ve got to keep it safe for me, okay? Don’t let it get damanged or anything. You think you can handle that?”

“Mhm. Can do,” Matthew murmured, wrapping his fingers around it. “Try – try not to die too of’en out there.”

“I’ll do my best. Gotta make my way back to you at _some_ point, right?”

“Yeah,” the younger man sighed, one last breath shuddering through his body before his eyes rolled up in his head.

Gilbert pressed one last kiss to Matthew’s forehead before standing up, tears pouring down his face again. “I love you, my shadow, I really do,” he whispered in strangled German, wiping at his face. “I’m gonna come back to you eventually, I promise.”

The alleyway fell mostly silent as Gilbert left, but for the distant cries of the battle.

It wasn’t until several long moments later that a pair of green eyes blinked themselves into existence in the doorway of a nearby house, a malicious grin following not long after.

 

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**_August 25, 1944_ **

**_Versailles, France_ **

****

The grounds of Versailles were unnaturally silent and empty as Charlotte stalked up the long road towards the entrance with a sword in hand. The hedges surrounding the palace had become wild and overgrown in the years since the war had begun; the grounds surrounding the palace were in no better a state, a mix of weeds and long grass waving in the early morning breeze.

 _Quite frankly, it is an absolute_ disgrace _that the Germans had let this happen to her lovely Versailles,_ she thought darkly, her lips turning downwards in a scowl that, had they seen it, would likely have had half of Europe trembling in fear.  
It would be months, if not _years_ of work to reverse the damage wrought by the Nazi occupation. The remains of old cigarettes joined together with weeds on the paths, and scorch marks positively littered the grounds – as though they’d turned Versailles into a training camp of sorts. The sight of it all made her blood positively _boil_.  
She may have hated Versailles, towards the end of the monarchy, but _nobody_ got to mistreat her palace like this. Nobody but her people, at any rate.

The sun had just started peeking over the horizon as she reached the main doors, turning the sky a bright, fiery red. Charlotte couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a normal sunrise, one that _didn’t_ promise that blood had been spilt that night, and that yet more would be shed that day.

The doors gave way easily under her touch, as if saying _welcome home._ She breathed a sigh of relief as she found that at least _this_ part of the palace was relatively untouched. She was sure if she found wherever the soldiers had been staying, it would be in much the same condition as the grounds, but at least this hall was still intact. The heels of her boots clicked quietly against the pale wood of the floor as she worked her way towards her old rooms, light beginning to stream in through the windows.  
If she closed her eyes for a second, it felt almost like the palace was just starting to wake up. She could almost _see_ the servants running about, trying to get everything ready before the nobles arose. She shook her head slightly, clearing it of the errant thoughts as best she could. It wouldn’t do to indulge in such fantasies, not when she had a purpose for being _here_ instead of fighting on the streets of Paris with her people.

There was no time for such pleasures, no matter how small – not while her doppelganger was still breathing.

The gold ornamentation glowed brightly in the sun as she continued making her way towards her old rooms. The closer she got to them, the more disoriented she started to feel – as though she was being pulled by some magnetic force back to her other half.

Marie sat in the middle of a grand ballroom; her legs sprawled out on the floor and her skirt encircling her in a large puff of fabric. She looked rather like an abandoned porcelain doll, left there by a careless child who had found something better to play with. “I knew you would eventually come,” she said quietly, rising gracefully to greet her other half. “I’m surprised it took you this long, though.”

“Well, there was no way I could’ve come here any sooner. I wouldn’t have had a chance of winning if I did,” Charlotte admitted, stopping about 8 feet away from Marie, silently adjusting the grip on her sword.

“No, of course not. You had to wait until our sons and their _father_ came to rescue you,” Marie accused, flipping her stringy blonde hair over her shoulder.

“ _No_ , I knew that little Germany would have slaughtered me _instantly_ had I come any sooner,” Charlotte said quietly, only just barely holding herself back from attacking Marie immediately. “How _dare_ you call them your sons, though? You have _no right_ to them! _You_ are nothing more than a puppet, an _abomination_!”

“No, that’s not true! Mathieu and Alexander are my sons as _well_ as yours, you can’t just –”

“They are _NOT_! _You_ didn’t spend 40 hours in labor with them, _YOU_ never –”

“Neither did you!” Marie interrupted, shaking a little with what appeared to be a mixture of fear and anger. “Neither did you. Neither of us is the real one – you are me, I am you. We’re both one half of a whole.”

“You’re _wrong_! They are _my_ sons, Mathieu himself has said you are nothing more than a pretender –”

“And what of Alexander, hm? Of _Alfred_ , I should say. Does the poor boy even _know_ we’re his mother? Come to think of it, does _Mathieu_? But Alfred especially – he ran off to his father as soon as he was able, really! Do you _honestly_ think he wouldn’t pick me over you?”  
“No! No, he wouldn’t pick you, he didn’t – he didn’t leave me for Arthur! It doesn’t matter if the boys know; it doesn’t matter if Alexander ran away. He would _never_ choose you, he knows better than that!” Charlotte screamed, taking a few steps forward as if she was going to attack before stopping in her tracks. “He would _never_ choose you. Never. He – he _knows_ I love him, I’ve made that as clear as I can –”

“Does he _really_ know that, though? Or does he think we just helped him out with his little rebellion against his father to make Arthur angry? Does he think he owes us a debt, for helping him win? Another, for not coming to help out with _ours_? Well. _Yours_ more than mine, I think…”

“N-no, of – of _course_ not! I would _never_ ask him to repay me, he owes me _nothing_!”

“And _speaking_ of their father,” Marie interrupted again, moving towards her other half with all the grace of a tiger with a wounded fawn in its sights. “ Do you _honestly_ think that _Arthur_ , of all people, would choose to side with _you_ over _me_? I mean, _look_ at me!” she crowed, twirling around to show off all of herself before looking Charlotte over critically, making a sad little pout. “And, well, look at _you_. There’s simply _no way_ that Arthur would choose you over _me_. You’re all the parts he _hates_.”  
“It – it doesn’t matter! He still wouldn’t side with you,” Charlotte retorted, unconsciously moving away from her other half. “And – and I’m _not_. He hates how petty you are, how _childish_. How you always see the world in black and white, with no grey in between. How _vain_ you are, and how _selfish_!”

“Oh, and you’re not all those things too?” Marie countered, smirking a little as she drew a knife out of her sleeve. “Have you forgotten already? Neither of us is the whole. We’re both halves of the same coin, yes? He hates the _both_ of us. If he hates me for all the reasons you said, then he –”

“He hates more of what _you_ are than what I am!” Charlotte screeched. “There’s nobody that would side with you, not even if you turned traitor and sold out everything that little Germany has ever told you!”

“Oh, don’t be so sure of _that_. I’m sure that _Vanya_ would protect me if I sold out Ludwig – which, by the way? I would _never_. Ludwig has been nothing but kind to me.”  
“Ludwig used you like a cheap whore! He allowed you to live only because he could fuck you, and because his _men_ could fuck you! You really think he would’ve let someone so _useless_ to him live? Hell, you can’t even hold a _knife_ the right way!” Charlotte yelled, knocking it out of her hand easily before bringing her sword up, drawing a thin line of blood that slowly trickled its way down Marie’s’s chest. “If he couldn’t fuck you, he would’ve killed you instantly. So you just rolled over for him, like the _breeding bitch you are_ , because somewhere deep down? You _knew_. You _knew_ that was the only way he’d let you survive for this long.”

“N-no, that _can’t_ be true! He loves me! He told me he did!”

“Oh, _please_. You’re not _that_ stupid – he’s _using_ you, and you _know_ it.”

“He isn’t! He _told_ me he loves me, and he _never_ lies to me! Not _ever_!”

“Really? So he told you all about how he had his brother tortured? How he damn well threw him away when Gilbert was of no more use to him? He told you all about how he’s _losing_ this war?”

“W-well, _no_ , but all of that is just – _ugly_!”

“That’s what war _is_! It’s pain and suffering and, _yes_ , ugliness! That is _always_ what war has been!”

 “And Ludwig wanted me to _avoid_ all that! He wanted to keep me _safe!_ ”

"No, he didn’t! And if you continue to insist on acting like a whore and a bitch, you will _die_ like one!” Charlotte snarled, moving her sword away just enough to allow Marie to move again. “Now, pick up your knife and go outside.”

“W-what makes – what makes y-you think I’ll do as you say?” Marie demanded through sobs, tears streaming down her face.

“Because it’s either you fight honorably, as a _true_ representative of the nation of France would do… _or_ I can just slaughter you. It makes no difference to me, but I’d rather not have to scrub your blood out of the floor.”

The blonde let out another sob as she knelt to grab her knife, looking up at Charlotte with tear-filled eyes and biting her lip anxiously. “W-why would you even give me the chance to fight you?” she asked as she got back up, her whole body trembling in fright.

“It’s the honorable thing to do. Which may be something _you_ lack any of, but _mine_ is still intact,” Charlotte replied, shoving her other half outside. The world around her suddenly went sharp and bright the colors becoming inverted and twisted for a moment. Her stomach heaved violently, forcing her to choke back vomit.

Marie had no such restraint, stumbling into the grass and throwing up the meager contents of her stomach, coughing hard as she did. As she got up, she met the point of Charlotte’s sword in her face, the other woman’s eyes burning bright red as they glared down at her. “Y-you’re a cruel bitch, you know that?”

“Nothing I haven’t been called before. Nor you, for that matter, what with your insistence on calling us each other’s _halves,_ ” Charlotte said lightly. “Now – are you going to get up and fight, or should I just chop off your head, like your namesake?”

Marie let out a little gasp at that, trembling as she stood up. “She deserved a better end than that, and you know it!”

“Oh, _please_. She was a rich, vain, spoiled _brat_. Content to hide away here, while her people were suffering – _just like you_. She deserved to die! And _so do you_.”

“Oh, yes, because what happened _after_ she died was so good for us. Robespierre and that lot – they ushered us into a new age of _terror_. Is that what you want to happen next? You want there to be chaos in the streets, not knowing who to trust again?”

“There’s chaos in the streets _now_. Blood running through the streets of Paris once more, because _you_ were content to let that Nazi bastard _fuck you senseless_ instead of killing him!”

“Please! You’d rather have it that way! You claim you want what’s best for the people, but all you really want is blood!” Marie cried, adjusting her grip on her knife. “Blood, and chaos, and _death_. The apocalypse is here, because _war itself_ has manifested in _you_. All you need is your red horse!”

“That’s _ENOUGH!”_ Charlotte screamed before quickly and viciously slashing at Marie, who only just barely blocked the blow in time with her knife. She swung again, faster than she knew she could move – Marie didn’t even have time to scream before blood spurted out of her throat and she dropped to the ground, twitching as she struggled to breathe.

She kept hacking away, doing her best to ignore the sounds of the metal going through flesh; after what seemed like an agonizingly long moment Marie’s head finally came off, blood soaked into her hair, dyeing it an odd reddish-gold shade. Charlotte kicked her head away, watching it bounce a little as it rolled across the grass, blue eyes glassy and mouth slack. It gave a sickening crunch as it hit a nearby tree.

Any hope of keeping the contents of her stomach intact was lost at that – she barely had time to drop her sword and move away from the still-cooling body before she threw up violently, dropping to her knees. She crawled back towards it, pressing her hands against the corpse.

The world stayed as it was – the sky remained blue, and the ground under her stayed firmly green and brown and red – so very, very red. She kept pressing her hands against Marie’s body, becoming increasingly more frantic as time dragged on and no reaction happened.

She sat back on the ground with a quiet _thump_ , staring at the corpse for what seemed like an eternity.

 _It’s like papa’s old story about Rome – don’t you remember?_ A little voice in the back of her mind finally whispered, one that sounded oddly like Marie, and yet oddly not. _The two brothers were found in the wild and raised by a she-wolf. They grew up and built Rome, and then Romulus killed Remus and ate his heart to become the true Roman Empire. Papa said he did that_ every _time he killed another nation, just to become stronger._

Charlotte reached for the knife still clasped in Marie’s hand, pulling it away with some effort. She ripped open Marie’s dress, slicing through her underthings to reveal her chest.

 _You have to eat her heart_ , it insisted. _Eat it, and everything will be right again. You’ll be stronger, too._

She plunged the knife into the body, carefully carving around the heart before pulling it out. The world started to spin a little, her own heartbeat thudding in her ears as she held it up, blood dripping from her hands.

The first bite was the hardest – the flesh was slippery and tasted strongly of metal, making it difficult to stomach. The second and third were a little easier, until she hit a pocket filled with blood.

It immediately filled her mouth to overflowing, making her forcibly gag. She forced herself to swallow all she could of it, coughing a little once she had. Blood dripped down her mouth and onto her skirt, quickly soaking into the dark fabric.

The world started shifting a little more, the colors around her starting to swirl. Another bite, and faint lines started to appear on her hands and arms. Another, and they became a little darker.

She finished the rest of it, blood dripping down her chin, before the colors overwhelmed her once more, and unconsciousness claimed her.

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one of (maybe) 2 or 3.
> 
> All the French included has been translated by Gilbert. I don't actually speak it, but I know enough to know that what's there is (roughly) correct. Please feel free to correct me on anything that's wrong, though!


End file.
